If There Is A Light- dont let it go out
by Boooyakasha
Summary: An unexpected attack leaves the musketeers spiraling off course in the middle of nowhere, desperate for medical aid. When they stumble across a sanctuary in the hills, Athos finds a little more than he bargained for. Can he learn to love again? *everyone gets super whumped, and their angst gets pretty dark- just a warning*
1. Shadow of a Doubt

**AN- So here****'****s the beginning of that monster fic I****'****ve been ranting about (no the title isn't meant to hint any relation to Blinded by the Light- it's a song title for later).**

**Normally at this point, I would have focused my story on Aramis -as he is my favourite character- but since I wish to remain true to his cannon pairing with Anne, I have happily settled on Athos- who****'****s been battling in my mind for first place since day 1 anyway. And so I bring you another Athos whump/angst fic- with some romance tied in ;)**

**This is also my first fic containing an oc- I was hesitant to use one as im not **_**usually **_**a fan of them myself, but being the mad woman that I am I decided to give it a shot. **

**I hope you like her and this story! ;) **

**~o0o~**

**(Warning- this gets a little graphic in places- not too badly I hope, but just fyi)**

It was the thick of night and a dense fog now loomed across the open meadows, partially shrouding the dimly lit gravel road back into Paris.

Not put out by the eerie conditions, Athos scanned the area easily, able to see in all directions for miles around, unwinding as he acknowledged there could be no surprises lying in wait for them here, that they would not see coming.

The musketeers finally began to relax in their saddles at this, tired from their long ride around the country to escort their hopeless governor to his large estate and pick up the proper parchment that allowed the passing of a new law awaiting him in commerce.

Everything had appeared normal, no suspicious activity that would cause any unease for the guards out front. No warning about the ambush that lay waiting for them ahead.

No one had been prepared for what happened next.

Springing up from their concealed beds among the long wheat grass, an army had seemingly appeared as if by magic, screaming anguished cries into the silence of the night as they charged the guards, armed to the teeth and outnumbering them at least fifty to one.

Flying from their saddles and courageously standing their ground by the doors of the governors carriage, each musketeer fought hard against the slew of swords forcing their way forwards.

"Perhaps a retreat with the governor would be best!?" Aramis suggested loudly over the clashing of swords, chancing a glance over to Athos who fought hard on his left flank.

_It seemed even the expert swordsman was struggling to keep up with his growing number of opponents _Aramis acknowledged grimly.

_This didn__'__t look good. _

_They couldn__'__t keep up this fast pace forever, with each parry, blow and dodge their strength would wane while the new men would continue to attack them without such hindered reservations. _

"Can't risk it!" Athos replied with a grunt, gathering all of his strength to his arms so he could push his sword back against the pressing assailant -of whom was attempting to force his sword bend back to meet its maker.

_If they were to retreat now, the governor would become an easy target for the long range muskets. They could not allow that to happen _Athos concluded eyeing the musket on the back of his attacker, glad for the small mercy that they'd had the wits not to use their pistols in such close quarters.

Whirling to the side and ducking under the arc of a narrowly arcing blade that sought his face, Porthos circled into Aramis' sight.

"Any o' you's got those fancy smoke bombs on 'and?" he panted, smashing his free left hand into the nose of an on comer while he continued to do battle with his right.

The two men dared to offer their eyes to Porthos to convey their expressions of hopelessness.

_They hadn__'__t thought to pack any _their sad eyes stated, ripping their eyes away and back to the fight at hand.

"Here!" D'artagnan suddenly shrieked gleefully from amidst the bustling of leather bodies, battling his way forwards and using his nimble frame to sidestep and roll his way around the deadly blows that came his way.

The newest member of their brotherhood, D'artagnan was always one to come over prepared into the field, carrying plentiful supplies in his over burdened satchels.

It looked as if his diligence had finally paid off as he raced forward to hand over the bomb, seeking the matches his friend was responsible for carrying as the 'unofficial cook' of the group.

Porthos quickly turned to the call of his friend, spying his tall lanky form and brown leather jacket through the sea of cut throats and glinting of rising swords and aloft muskets.

Noting the promising progression of his Porthos' plan, Athos fought more vigorously, his sharpened blade slicing holes and damning gashes through the pale flesh of the men surrounding him, splattering blood over his outfit and the gravel below.

_He__'__d probably be mistaken as a thriving butcher at this point, _Athos speculated, thrusting his second dagger into the jugular of another as continued his slow pace towards Aramis' defenceless back.

_He supposed the only big defining difference between the two careers was that he was cutting down men and not pigs__…__ Not much of a difference actually _he corrected humourlessly as he left a gash across another's stomach, dropping him effectively to the crimson ground.

"Catch!" D'artagnan warned, pitching the hefty steel ball full of dried leaves and chemicals over to Porthos.

He could get no closer without leaving his back vulnerable in the thicker swarm of men and so he continued to fight back with all his might, hoping his brother had heeded his call while he set off back the few paces he'd come, so he could escort the governor from his carriage when the time came.

Having kept his sights on the boys advances when he could, Porthos removed his blade from a mans gut and used the moment of freedom to raise his free arm and catch the smoke bomb.

Rifling desperately through his back pocket with his left, cradling the bomb in the nook of his elbow and parrying his blade with at least two others at a time, Porthos was relieved when his fingers caught hold of the match sticks.

Knocking his closest attackers back with a wide sweep of his sword, Porthos struck the matches against the stubble on his skin and lit the fuse, an evil smile now crossing his features.

_Finally, they could get out of here _Porthos sighed in relief, raising his arm back to throw the bomb into the middle of the mess.

Just as he was about to let the ball loose, a man suddenly rammed his shoulder from the side, jostling his grip and causing the ball to fly from his grasp -its slowed momentum causing it to roll to a stop only three feet from his position.

Not wanting to get caught by the shrapnel or the blinding sparks that would come with the initial blast, Porthos fought mercilessly against his restraining adversaries, gaining a few feet per second as he vacated towards the outskirts of the battle, eyes always searching for his brothers.

Sensing rather than seeing the threat of the bomb fall into the tangle of dancing boots, Athos grasped at Aramis shoulder, "We need to leave, now" Athos commanded urgently, slowly leading his brother away as they fought back to back, walking to the edge of the battle.

Acting on instinct, D'artagnan swept his blade wide for a final blow before turning his back and entering the governors carriage, arms catching hold of his embodied sleeve and launching him up from his seat and out of the shadowed interior with a powerful tug.

Having been on the left side of the carriage where the wheels lay at the abrupt edge of a ditch narrow that followed the road, D'artagnan considered himself lucky that he only had five men to deal with.

There was simply not enough room for many men to be standing on this side without standing in the ditch, and that would leave their heads dangerously vulnerable to arcing swords at waist height.

Covering his body with his own, D'artagnan roughly shoved the spluttering governor ahead, taking out the few men at his immediate sides before leaping the ditch and running into the tall cover of the cornstalks standing on the other side.

Just as D'artagnan had leapt to the safety of the adjacent field, a loud crack filled the air, followed by billowing smoke that quickly spread to consume the ongoing battle and cover his brothers from his sight.

D'artagnan prayed that they would remain safe until he could rejoin them once more.

That prayer went unanswered.

**Sorry, I had to cut this intense chapter in half! It was taking over! I hoped you found it intense -as the next one definitely will be!**

**Lots of angst/whump/tragedy coming up! Hope you****'****re intrigued. Leave a comment and let me know what you thought!**


	2. Gentle Giant

**Thanks for the reviews- guest or otherwise, you guys made my day! Here****'****s the second half of that packed chapter, so it****'****s a little shorter- but I intend to post the third chapter later anyways so im not cutting you short! Enjoy!**

Crouching low and wafting at the thick smoke in his face as it threatened to steal from his remaining oxygen supply, Athos spurred Aramis ahead, grateful to have evaded the sights of the remaining attackers, if not for only a short moment.

"Where are we going?" Aramis croaked from his hunched position behind Athos, tears streaming down his face, elbow covering his mouth and nose as if it were a helpful breathing apparatus.

"Anywhere but here" Athos supplied bluntly, eyes always alert for any signs that their brothers had escaped this mess.

Suddenly a familiar voice called out from their right, "Oi, over here!" it hissed.

_Porthos_.

Athos did his best to travel towards the location of the whisper, trying not to stumble on corpses or lose track of Aramis as he did so.

As the smoke began to clear, the three brothers were able to spot each others positions and altered their course accordingly to head in the right direction.

Paces away from rejoining forces, Athos could only watch as a blood spattered man, wild in the eye with madness came raging out of the hanging smoke and managed to land a violent blow against Porthos back.

It had only taken seconds.

Letting out an agonized cry, Porthos froze on his feet, arms flailing behind him to the gash in a futile effort to stem the pouring blood now flowing down his midsection before crumpling heavily to the floor as his strength deserted him.

"NOOOOO!" Athos screamed, all caution for remaining hidden now thrown to the wind as he dashed towards his fallen comrade, barely pausing to lop off the attackers head in one swift blow as he raced passed, Aramis following behind on shaky legs as he looked on in shock.

"Porthos, brother, _please_, answer me!" Athos cried, gloved hand tapping his friend paling cheek as his eyes remained tightly shut in pain, his teeth gritting together to prevent further sound from escaping.

At hearing his mentors anguished cry of woe, D'artagnan bolted to his feet amongst the grass, no longer wanting to sit guard on this petty man of nobility.

Forcing him to his polished boots, D'artagnan all but dragged the governor along by his collar, hastily cutting a wide arc in the grass with his body as he headed towards the scream in the night.

From his place at the edge of the grass, D'artagnan just managed to make out the two kneeling figures through the smokey fog, a third figure lying deathly still in their arms along the floor.

Leaving the governor with instruction to stay low and hidden in the safety of the grass until he returned, D'artagnan broke from his cover and dashed towards his brothers a plea to the heavens that the fallen man was not dead.

_D__'__artagnan didn__'__t know what he__'__d do with himself if it had been his absence in their struggle that had allowed this disaster to happen._

Racing forwards, D'artagnan continued to pour his energy into crossing the small clearing as quickly as he could, his attention suddenly redirected as he saw yet another figure approach the unaware threesome from behind.

Eyes wide but not close enough to help, D'artagnan cupped a hand to his mouth, "LOOK OUT!"

He hoped they would react in time.

**Cliff hanger, I know****…****don****'****t you just hate them! Like I said, I****'****ll be updating as soon as I can (within the day) so bare with me!**

**Please leave a review to let me know what you think of it! Until next time!**


	3. All For One

**Thanks for the reviews/follows and faves, I****'****m so glad people are taking to this story quickly, its very motivational to say the least! **

**Here****'****s the much deserved next chapter!**

Mind unravelling at the sight of his brothers' blood pooling out beneath him on the ground, limbs frozen in place as he continued to watch Athos beg and plead Porthos to stay awake, Aramis found himself abruptly snapping to attention as D'artagnans pained cry demanded he turn around.

Following the plea without a second thought, Aramis quickly turned and was confronted with the sight of a second charging assailant, his deadly quiet run and black eyes of death forcing adrenaline through his frozen veins and causing him to react automatically.

Un-holstering his pistol from its holster, Aramis slowly aimed and fired, drilling the man between the eyes and watching coldly as his head snapped back, his feet flying forward in momentum to slam him back into the ground lying upwards, unseeing.

Watching the dead man with disdain a moment longer with even deader eyes, Aramis slowly returned his shattered mind to the spectacle of his fatally injured brother, glancing sideways as D'artagnan arrived on the scene, an expression of relief and concern.

_He was too young to be seeing this_, Aramis pondered in his state of detachment, but he could not follow through with sympathetic actions. _He would see this sooner or later if he was to become a musketeer_ he thought darkly.

"Aramis!" Athos panted from below him, demanding his attention, "Help him, _please_!" he begged, forcing him to kneel by an unmoving Porthos.

Aramis, turned Porthos over onto his side, his medical mind replacing the mind of the traumatized soldier. Eyeing the seeping, bloody gash on Porthos' midsection Aramis knew he could not help.

_There was too much blood, too big a hole. He didn__'__t have enough thread for this, despite the fact that what little medical supplies he carried would not hold it closed anyway._

Aramis shook his head minutely, hands in his laps as Athos continued to pant heavily and look at him in deep concern over their brothers livelihood.

"I can't" Aramis reported brokenly.

Thinking it was a failing of confidence, Athos gripped his brothers' shoulder fiercely, "Yes, you can!" he encouraged, tone serious but soft, _he didn__'__t _want to scare _Aramis_.

Aramis shook his head adamantly, "_No_, I cant!" he repeated, a sob breaking from his body as tears began to fall and wash away some of the bloody flecks on his face.

"Aramis" Athos ground out, shaking the mans arms and forcing him to meet his confident gaze, "You _must _try, brother. You _must_" he pleaded again, trying to keep his voice strong.

Aramis met the teary gaze with his own for a few sparse seconds before looking back at Porthos, taking a shaky breath before leaning forwards, fingers delicately probing at the wound.

Satisfied that he had got Aramis back on track for the time being, Athos left his faith with his man and rose to his feet, wiping his bloodied hands against his breeches while he took in D'artagnans' haggard presence and the silhouettes of the few remaining attackers searching a few feet away.

_Perhaps they have given up. Perhaps they would rather cut their losses _Athos pondered, trying to reason as to why no further men seemed willing to exit into the clearing where they were huddled out in the open, now basically defenceless against the final blow they could present.

_Whatever the reason, they should take this moment to their advantage -and with the governor in tow, take what remaining horses stood around grazing idly and find the nearest establishment in which they could recover their strength and wits._

He wouldn't even consider the possibility that Porthos may not make it that far through his plan.

_He would live. Dying wasn__'__t an option._

"D'artagnan, go and fetch the horses and the governor, meet us back here as soon as you can" Athos instructed, letting the soldier within take over.

Casting a final worried glance to his fallen brother, D'artagnan nodded and took off obediently while Athos continued to watch over the scene.

_No more of his brothers would suffer at the hands of others tonight. If the assailants even dared approach it would be over his dead body that they inflict any harm._

Moments that felt more like days passed by before D'artagnan finally returned, five horses in tow, a green looking governor stumbling along beside them.

Turning back to Aramis, Athos knelt down beside the trembling medic and placed a soothing hand on his shoulder, staying his bloodied hands from his work on Porthos' wound and forcing his attention back to the present.

"We need to get him onto a horse and ride out of here" Athos ordered steadily, "Is he safe to move?" he questioned.

Aramis looked over, face ashen, eyes filled with misery and anguish but fortunate enough to hold the flame of recognition in their pits.

Nodding mutely, Athos offered a quiet, "Good" in return and raised back to his feet while Aramis tried to wrap the wound with his now shredded cloak.

"Place the governor on the horse and escort him back to Paris" Athos commanded D'artagnan, receiving a stricken look from the boy.

Before he could retort, Athos cut him off, "Now" he demanded harshly, leaving no room for debate.

_He didn__'__t like asserting his authority over his comrades and often treated them as equals but when situation became dire and he found his comrades losing their wits, he found it the most productive to pull rank and __**make **__them follow orders rather than requests._

Forced to obey, D'artagnan nodded, holding Athos' gaze with one of misery and concern for his brothers, hesitant to leave should it be the last time he sees Porthos alive.

Athos acknowledged his protégés turmoil in a single glance and placed a reassuring, friendly hand on his slumped shoulders.

"He will be fine. I will make sure of it" he promised, then softly ushered him away with a slight push, "Now you must go."

D'artagnan nodded, a single tear sliding down his cheek before finally, he turned from the scene and ushered the governor onto his horse, hopped up behind him and set off at a swift gallop back into the smoke and fog, disappearing from his sight.

_Gods speed D__'__artagnan _were Athos' final thoughts before he grudgingly returned his attention to the bloody scene of Aramis and Porthos, helping his remaining friend sit Porthos up and carry him to his horse.

Once mounted behind his friend to keep him from falling, Athos nudged his skittish horse into a fast canter, its ears pricked and nostrils snorting at both the combined weight and fear over the smell of freshly spilt blood.

Aramis trailed behind silently on his own horse, leading the rider less mount behind him at a brisk pace.

He was trying his best to keep his eyes on their surroundings to watch his brothers backs, but his hands were thick and wet with his brothers blood and slid up and down on the reigns, reminding his mind off to darker thoughts and dragging his attention to their forms ahead.

_God be with us _Aramis prayed.

**So I hope that wasn't too dark!…who am I kidding, that was awful!**

**I always wanted to show how crucial Porthos is to the others -he's always there, loving, loyal, fierce… but never really the lime light for his efforts. **

**So **_**how **_**do I get him his moment of stardom? I stab him of course….oh, im so cruel, but it **_**did **_**work! ;)**

**Please leave a review to let me know what you thought!**


	4. Sanctuary or Death Sentence

**Here's the next chapter! Enjoy!**

Shivering despite the warmth of the night, Athos shifted uncomfortably in his saddle, his minor movements jostling Porthos in his tight hold and provoking a low moan.

"Shhh, brother, we're almost there" Athos lied, soothingly, feeling slightly guilty for his false words and having stirred his horrifically injured brother.

They had been riding for what Athos presumed was an hour and yet they had stumbled across no signs of an inn, home or village.

His wits were beginning to escape him as he battled the urge to turn around and head for Paris. It would be a most unwise move, as he knew that Paris lay five hours away -a death sentence for Porthos in his current state.

He had assumed there would be something closer within these fields, perhaps a homely shelter with people to give aid, but it appeared he'd made a critical error in judgement.

_Please, let there be someone _Athos begged quietly, knuckles tightening painfully on the reigns as he felt the wet heat continue to press against his own stomach and knowing it was the crucial life blood flowing from Porthos' back, making the saddle even more slippery.

"There!" Aramis cried, Athos twisting quickly to follow his friends pointing arm to set his sights on the smallest of dark lumps atop a hill in the distance -its candle light barely a white pin prick in the blackness, though it was most likely a window, in which it sat.

Almost thanking the gods that Aramis was not the one injured -as he had the best eyesight- Athos harshly scolded himself for even conjuring the inconceivable thought.

Shaking his head from the cobwebs of woe filling his head, Athos spurred his horse into an all out run towards the house on the hill.

When they arrived, Athos took note that it was in fact a farm, not just a house that they had stumbled across, its old brick walls half shrouded in shrubbery and vines concealing the barn at the side that was half covered by tall crops that surrounded the immediate fields.

_The perfect hide away._

Athos felt his being stir with the inklings of renewed hope.

Hopping down from his horse quickly, Athos turned to catch Porthos as he fell heavily into his arms with another grunt, leaving Aramis to tie the horses to the branch of a dead tree standing vigil out front.

Meeting Aramis half way to the door, Athos was quick to his share responsibilities of keeping their heavy, muscled brother aloft -slinging Porthos' arms over their necks and holding his waist up by the belt.

As they dragged him carefully the rest of the way, Aramis' haunted eyes focused his attention on his bloody hand, the one that held pressure over Porthos' makeshift bandages until they reached the gnarled wooden door, Athos rapping on it urgently.

"Hello? Any body in there!" he called sharply, willing the door to open with all his might.

_The place did look weathered and old, but surely it could not be abandoned if there were a burning candle in the window. _

Athos only hoped this person may be friendly_, he was in no mood to argue for a place to stay nor fight any new threats they may present, he would merely behead them. _

_They couldn__'__t afford to waste any more time when a life was literally hanging in the balance._

All of a sudden a loud crash sounded from the barn, Aramis' turning his head, hand pulling his pistol from its holster and raising it menacingly while Athos stood motionless by his side, watching the door in case someone should arrive.

Out from the shadows of the barn a figure emerged, the moonlight presenting to the musketeers a young woman, pale as the moon herself with streaming black hair tied either side in a plait either side of her heart shaped face, her exquisite features crinkled in curiosity.

Despite her beauty and youth, the musketeers remained on guard. They weren't allowing room for any more nasty surprises tonight.

_They would never trust a simple seeming crop fields again, let alone a pretty face _Athos surmised knowingly.

"Who goes there?" she called, raising a lantern above her head, a hand to her brow as she squinted through the darkness, slowly venturing closer to inspect the three man shadow on her doorstep.

"That's close enough ma'am" Athos instructed, eyes glancing back to the door as Aramis gestured at her with his gun, forcing her to stop in her tracks.

"What's going on here?" she demanded, tone void of fear, bordering on rage instead.

"We are seeking aid for our injured companion" Aramis stated, eyes roving her body for suspicious lumps that might suggest she carried a hidden weapon on her person.

Feeling very much violated _and _annoyed now, the woman took a daring step closer but wisely kept her arms still raised in surrender.

"Well this is hardly the way to go looking for help" she motioned to the gun, glare on her face.

Aramis eyed Athos for permission before lowering his gun, slightly.

"I can get you what you need inside" she offered, "I've stitched many a wound on this farm. Don't let my dainty appearance fool you" she teased, her expression now less harsh as she sympathized over their predicament, gliding past the musketeers cautiously to unbolt the door and allow them entrance to the home.

"We wont" Athos replied confidently, meeting her curious gaze with a completely serious one before following her inside.

It was a small but homely place inside, a fire winking out of existence on the lightly furnished living room on the left, two single portraits of an old man and woman hanging either side of it.

The rest of the small room was complete with dark rugs that were draped across the wooden floor and a wooden chair and a table sitting in the corner, a vase of fresh flowers sitting atop that.

To their right lay a small kitchen, a second table and a few open cupboards revealing an assortment of cooking supplies and healthy amount of vegetables, probably grown and picked from her very own garden outside.

Dead ahead, lay a wood beamed staircase which turned abruptly to the right after a few steps and continued to the second landing where the bedrooms lay.

Seeing no threats, the three men cautiously continued forwards, following her small form into the kitchen area where she quickly swept the table free of clutter.

"You can rest him here" she instructed, the musketeers following her every wish as she bent over the fitfully sleeping man and inspected the wound -with the utmost care, Aramis noted.

"How did this happen?" she implored as she continued to examine the man -settling for idle talk in an attempt to fill the uneasy silence of panting and nerve frayed glances.

While waiting on her answer, she paced back and forth, rummaging throughout the cupboards to acquire her makeshift medical instruments; first a cloth, then a bag of salt, spools of thread, a kit of needles, some wine and further white linens.

Athos stepped back to allow her the room she needed, "We were ambushed" he recalled coldly, holding her gaze when her head darted up in shock, her eyes wandering over to Aramis for confirmation and getting it based off the horror she saw in his eyes.

She shook her head disapprovingly, not quite knowing what to say.

_She doubted she could comfort them anyway and so returned her attention back to the one thing she _could_ do, aid their friend._

As she began to partially unwrap the bloody cloak from the mans body, she noticed that her hands quickly became covered in crimson, undeterred, she wiped them nonchalantly onto her apron and continued.

A heavy thud suddenly sounded from above, Aramis and Athos pulling out their swords and pistols, eyes meeting hers accusingly.

Panicked by their intentions, the woman raised her arms in alarm.

"No! Please, its just my parents! They are sleeping upstairs! I merely left my bed for the barn to tend to the horses…I couldn't sleep" she confessed in embarrassment but feeling relieved at seeing them lower their pistols slightly.

It was then that footsteps were heard across the ceiling as the true owners of the household went to the stairs and descended to find three unknown, armed men standing in the half light of their kitchen, their daughter now covered in blood up to her elbows.

Swinging his shotgun up into a lethal position, to point it at the intruders, the man took a bold step forward.

"What the hell is going on here?" he growled.

**Sorry about the cliff hanger! Hope you liked it! Leave a review and let me know what you think of the story so far!**


	5. Battle of Wits

**Thanks so much for the many follows/reviews/faves of this story, ive never received so much support and love when starting a story before, im beaming that you guys are liking it so much! Here's the next chapter- I will update twice today ;D**

Athos immediately dropped his weapons to the floor, hoping his actions would placate the dangerously armed man on the stairs by showing him he meant no harm -nor did he want to suffer at the hands of it.

"I assure you monsieur, this is not what it looks like" Athos ventured cautiously, palms outwards in a display of peace, hoping his eagerness to give the man full power over the situation may serve to settle his nerves.

Aramis copied his brothers wise actions, his belt clunking onto the wooden floor with the weight of his silver gilded sword, trying to avoid eye contact by all means; a ruse to show the man his supposedly timid nature and natural inferiority.

Seeming somewhat comforted by the soldiers' easy submission, the old man lowered his gun ever so slightly and turned his attention back to his main question -their presence in his home- suddenly noticing the still man lying on his kitchen table.

"And what exactly is this _supposed _to look like?" he fired back angrily, finger tightening, back on the trigger.

_Injured men usually meant wanted criminals in these parts _he stormed, eyeing the men ferociously.

He could feel his wifes' nimble fingers clawing their way into the back of his shoulder blade as she tried to remain calm, watching over her daughter with a stricken look.

"Papa!" the young woman abruptly yelled, coming to her senses and rushing over to the stairwell -brushing passed the strange men as if it were nothing the father noted.

"_Please_, put down your gun! They need our help!" she begged, small fists now wrapped around the end of the double barrel shotgun, trying to lower his aim.

Unable to shift his gaze from the potential threat in the room the man ignored his daughters pleas and instead asked, "Well? Im waiting!…You'd better explain yourself, son, before I lose my patience and bury you six feet under where you belong."

Aramis gulped nervously at this and decided it would be best to raise his arms too, _he didn__'__t want the man to think he was in the mood to do anything heroic._

"Sir…" Athos began cautiously, "My name is Athos, of the kings' musketeers. This here is my partner and friend, Aramis… and on the table-" Athos seemed to choke at this but recovered his confident manner just as fast, "-is our gravely wounded brother, Porthos."

The man gave him a hard, pitiless stare, the only sign that he had heard him being the slightly drooping barrels of his gun once again, "Continue" he ordered, still not completely satisfied.

"We were on our way back to Paris, escorting the governor -as our duty demanded- when we were ambushed by fifty armed assailants" Athos finished, his stomach coiling tightly at the trauma the memory brought him.

"Let me guess, they kicked your butt" the old man stated, bluntly.

Aramis physically flinched at the barb, eyes narrowing and growing menacingly dark with bloodlust, a slight curl coming to his lips as his shoulders bunched together slightly, ready for a confrontation.

_His little charade of __'__harmless young man__'__ was wearing on his already thin patience as he listened to Porthos panting on the table behind him, desperately fighting for his life while he was forced to listen to this old fool natter on. _

Sensing his brother was about to do something foolish, Athos took a gentle step in front of him, making it look intended instead of forced and continuing to keep his eyes locked onto the old man.

_As much as he__'__d love to teach the man a thing or two about manners, they were in _his _home and he had every right to behave as he liked within these walls -even if it proved an annoying hindrance to others. _

Athos continued on this line of thought, trying to address the situation calmly and logically so he could tame boiling anger within to a less dangerous simmer.

_In his defence, they _had _showed up in the dead of night, complete strangers, armed and bloody with an insane and desperate glint in their eyes. And on top of it all they had involved their daughter in their madness. _

The man had a right to be acting the way he was Athos acknowledged grimly.

"They did indeed" Athos ground out, "Now if you would be so kind but as to lower your weapon? I assure you we mean you no harm" Athos soothed, his strong gaze, sincere words and calm demeanour winning over the mans decision to trust them.

Sighing in relief but not one to miss a beat, Athos generously thanked the man for his kind hospitality, then quickly requested leave of his presence so they may turn back to their injured comrade.

"By all means, I don't want his blood all over the floor" the man replied coldly, this time causing both musketeers to flinch.

_If he only knew what they could do _Athos pondered a moment but bowed his head formally instead.

_He would be foolish to entertain such dark thoughts in this time of urgency, he could argue about this sort later but as of right now, he needed to _act_._

_His brothers' life depended on it._

"And where do you think you're going?" the old man demanded, Athos whirling around expectantly at his words before realizing the mans' eyes lay on his daughter instead.

She had quickly made to follow them over to the kitchen but it seemed her father had other plans for her and barred her path with his shotgun.

"Papa! If I do not help, their friend could die!" she protested, shoving aside the shotgun and attempting to continue her business.

This time, her father grabbed her roughly by the arm and spun her around.

"Miriam, these men are _soldiers_, they know what they're doing. They don't need the lowly likes of _you _running around their feet and getting in the way" he chastised, glaring down as her as she lost her nerve and looked to her feet in shame.

Coughing into his fist to attract the attention of the very intimate but very public interaction between father and daughter, Athos stepped forwards minutely.

"On the contrary, sir. Your daughters' medical aid would be an invaluable asset to our efforts" he stated, air of utmost confidence to his claims.

The man looked angrily between Athos and Miriam, eyeing them both suspiciously.

"_Fine_…do what you have to do -but I don't want no one dying under this roof, you hear me?" he snapped.

It was a command, not a question.

Bowing his head again to the mans wishes, Athos began to re-evaluate his earlier assumptions of the scared old man.

_It seemed he was also a temperamental old brute, solely focused on his own selfish desires with no thoughts of care or sympathy towards others -including that of his own daughter. _

Athos despised men like him.

Quickly pacing back over to his brothers' side, Athos placed his bloody fingers against Porthos' jugular, his tense frame relaxing ever so slightly when he found the thready pulse he had been hoping for.

There was still time.

**So I left it on a **_**bit **_**more of a positive note this time-or at least hopeful!**

**I realize this had been quite a dark story so far but don****'****t worry it twists into something more touching later on. Things just have to stew first!**

**Let me know what you thought of it in the comments! Until next time!**


	6. New Bonds

**5 page chapter here, couldn****'****t find anywhere to cut it. **

**WARNING -the first part gets pretty damn graphic, so you may want to skip the first few lines if you don****'****t like reading that kind of stuff! Sorry?****…****Enjoy!**

Delicately peeling back the makeshift tourniquet of Aramis' cloak, Miriam revealed the angry wound in all its glory, drawing a collective gasp of sickening horror from its 'doctors.'

The outline of the jagged gash was now an angry red and purple colour, the torn and frayed skin at the edge of the wound, pulled up and away from the flesh as the sword had suddenly been ripped away.

From the site of the wound, a branching of crimson veins stood out harshly against the pale of Porthos' skin, threatening for an infection as they branched out and away until they fed deeper and disappeared.

Most noticeable of all was the sight of the bright, crimson blood that continued to weep sluggishly over the lower edge of the gash and run down the side of Porthos' back.

Its thick, joined streams becoming thinner as they ran before they dripped off the body completely and pooled together on the table.

It was a ghastly sight that left all onlookers pale and nauseated.

"I don't think I can do this, Athos" Aramis whispered, his face taking on a paler shade as his eyes became more hollow, raising his hands to display the tremors that shook them violently.

Brows knitting together in concern, Athos quickly took his friend a few paces away and sat him comfortably on the window sill by the burning candle.

"You are in shock my friend, do not worry yourself further" Athos hushed with a sturdy hand on his shoulder.

"Miriam and I-" he said with a nod in her direction, to which she supplied a comforting smile, "-will be able to handle the situation without further hindrance… I am not entirely hopeless at this" Athos jested with a smirk, encouraging a smile to grace his brothers wary features.

"Thank you, Athos-" Aramis sighed in relief.

_He didn__'__t want to be responsible for causing more harm than was already done, his hands wouldn__'__t be able to hold a cup steady let alone a thin needle_.

"-but there must be something else I can do to help?" Aramis offered.

_He also couldn__'__t just sit there._

"You can fetch me supplies as I call for them, should you like" Miriam suggested from the table, dabbing slightly at the running blood with an already soaked cloth.

Nodding once, Aramis shakily got to his feet, putting a pale hand out to brace his body against the wall, using his the other to grip Athos' steady shoulder for support.

When he had regained his balance, Aramis walked over to the table and stood by obediently -fetching and handing her cloths, sowing kits and wine from the pantry as soon as she requested them while Athos stood by her side and held down Porthos' writhing frame.

Hours into the exhausting surgery, Miriam's straining eyes lost focus on their delicate task and she accidentally jabbed her needle harshly into the half stitched wound.

Apologizing profusely, Miriam stepped back from the table and allowed Athos and Aramis full access to their friend -who was now howling in misery and attempting to buck away from the sharp pain.

During the moment of agony, Porthos' eyes opened into slits to reveal his fevered, brown orbs beneath.

" 'thos?…'mis?" Porthos croaked, his blurry vision and rolling eyes unable to focus on the familiar shadows.

"Yes, Porthos, we are here for you. Do not worry" Aramis replied hastily, bending further into his brothers' line of sight and brushing his palm back against the tightly curled hair, hoping to provide some measure of physical comfort for the man.

"…where?" he whispered weakly, his eyes darting about the unfamiliar, blurred ceiling while his hands gripped at Aramis, tight with pain.

"Safe" Athos assured.

_It was all he needed to know for now. _

Porthos stared at them for a moment, then seemed to accept the answer with a sigh of relief, his eyes rolling back into his head as his body became limp once more.

A moment of silence washed over the three as they processed what had just happened.

"I'd say that's a good sign" Miriam offered, catching the hopeful gaze of the men and smiling assuredly.

They both returned a look of thanks before returning to their duties, Miriam looking back to her neatly stitched pattern, now firmly sealing half of the wound closed.

It would be a while yet before she was done, but she took comfort in knowing the man would not die from blood loss this ungodly night.

And so the hours wore on, Aramis running to the pantry to get spare thread -more than once- while Athos continued to wash the wound with wine and salts before holding his friend down and suppressing the ensuing screams with his palm.

_He could not risk awakening the old man a second time this night. He may not be as forgiving and seek to evict them from the home, or worse _Athos thought.

With these unsteady reasons holding Athos' misery in check, he turned his eyes back to the eyes of his screaming brother, doing his best to ignore the extreme look of agony and despair that shone at him through Porthos' eyes while Miriam poured more alcohol on his wound.

After what felt like years of torment and torture, the last stitch was finally sealed tightly together, and with a little snip, the string was cut.

The next job of wrapping Porthos' midsection in bandages still turned out to be an awkward job as they daren't bend the man in half lest his new stitches rip open.

This lead to the musketeers lifting their comrade straight up into the air, maintaining his current axis while Miriam hastily wound the linens under and over his body, only stopping when she felt there was enough pressure and padding over the wound.

With the deed done, all people present in the darkened kitchen gratefully collapsed where they stood.

Whether that was against the counter, floor or window sill, their matching expressions all told of exhaustion marred with trauma and the slightest inkling of relief, bringing warmth seeping into their bones.

Still in awe that they had managed to complete such a daunting task -and end successfully- Aramis asked, "Where did you learn to do that?"

She looked over at his lounging form on the window sill, a tired smile forming on her lips.

"Like I said when I met you, I've stitched many a wound on this farm in the decades I've lived here" she supplied, drawing curious glances from the men.

Athos dearly hoped she'd clarify what she meant by that, his imagination was beginning to run rampant while his blood ran cold at the thought of her cruel father beating her over the years.

"I had lots of daring brothers that constantly needed attending to back when they lived here and tended to the fields" she explained, noticing the relief settle back into Athos' stiff posture.

"-my parents never approved on my immersion into medicine then and they still don't now. Said it 'wasn't the place of a lady to study and abuse such a profession'" she added sadly, gaining a frown from the men.

"-thought my herbal remedies were my adoption of witchcraft at one point too" she confessed with a sad snort.

Aramis shook his head in disbelief while Athos rang his hands together, fire flaring in his gut.

"Honestly, I think they just don't like me because I'm a useless burden of a daughter …and on top of that they haven't found anyone to wed me yet" she stated.

Fresh tears now welled in her eyes as the harsh memories of arguments passed continued to assault her, her expression turning to one of shame as she tucked her head into her neck to hide her crumpling face behind her hair, wrapping her arms around her shoulders in a state of vulnerability.

_No one ever cared. No one ever listened _Miriam's mind cried miserably.

Athos looked both stricken and uncomfortable at the sudden admittance of their host, his tactical mind now at a loss for the right words as he stared over at Aramis pleadingly for help.

More than happy to abide, Aramis quickly stood from his position in the sill and swept over to her side, placing a warm comforting hand across her shoulders and massaging them slowly.

"Just because others cant see the good in you, doesn't mean its not there" he whispered knowingly, looking towards Athos for a brief second before taking delicate fingers and brushing her hair back over her ear to see her tear stained face.

At the sudden heart felt compliment from his brother, Athos' chest swelled, Aramis' silver tongue, endearing personality and soulful presence had the ability to comfort even the most lost of souls.

Athos looked at he pair, his eyes shining, a warm smile on his face.

She sniffled at the remark and risked a glance up into his eyes, becoming entranced by the sincerity she found there and smiled slightly.

"Thank you" she whispered, returning his touch with her own tight embrace, hugging him back for all she was worth and causing a momentary look of surprise to flit across Aramis' features before returning the gesture, smiling warmly as they broke apart.

"No, thank you" Aramis corrected, "Porthos would not be… alive if it weren't for you" he choked out, tears now forming in his eyes at the thought.

"Is there anyway we can thank you? Athos interrupted, her momentary display of vulnerability now over, allowing him to regain control of hit wits and thick tongue.

"It is quite alright" Miriam replied softly, "-you would have done the same for me. You are a soldier who constantly fights for others. It was time for _someone _to show their gratitude and merely return the favour."

Athos and Aramis were touched by the weight of her words, their silence and expressions silently stating more than they could ever hope to say out loud.

Breaking contact with her beautiful green eyes, Athos noted Aramis' silver encrusted sword still strewn across the floor where he had left it hours before.

Casting his eyes over to his brother to seek permission and gaining an easy nod of approval, Athos slowly willed his body into action and crossed the floor, bending and picking up the sword before nervously wandering over to her.

Her face was now alive with curiosity.

"Then please, take this as a gift, a symbol of our great appreciation for your services. It will bring you protection or wealth should you choose to sell it and repair the farm" Athos offered, arms holding the sword out towards her while she marvelled at its magnificently designed artistry.

"That is awfully kind of you" Miriam began in a small awe filled voice.

"-but I am afraid I cannot accept it. My father would not allow this gift to enter our home… he is a man of pride who would much rather wield a gun than fight honourably in a duel" she stated knowingly, but feeling guilty at the sag of their shoulders.

"-But thank you, _really_" Miriam finished, putting a warm hand over Athos' and squeezing, a sincere smile on her face trying to wipe the look of concern off of Athos' face.

"Besides, I do not know how to wield the sword" she joked lightly, a smirk on her lips as she looked at it fondly.

Looking slightly stumped by the rejection and an inkling of anger shining in his eyes at her fathers' immature nature, Athos fumbled for a reply in the stretching silence.

"Er..very well… but… I am forever in your debt" he recovered, eyes meeting hers once more as he delivered the heart felt promise.

"As you wish" she replied sweetly, offering a mock curtsey that forced both men to smile before taking their seats once more.

As Athos rested his head against the wall and prepared to wait the night through for the return of his brother, Porthos, to the land of the living, Athos' thoughts became darkened as his drifting thoughts shifted between the ambush and Miriam's' overbearing father.

He looked over to her slumbering, peaceful form now propped against Aramis' chest on the floor by the sill, her loving soul shining through her soft, still features even as she slept.

_How could such a heavenly creature come from such a monster? _Athos pondered fretfully before slowly letting his eyelids droop closed and allow his exhaustion carry him off to sleep.

**Hope that wasn****'****t too long! Let me know what you thought by leaving a review!**


	7. Healing Wounds

**Thx for feedback, you guys are so nice to me and i love you all for it! **

**I wrote the angsty first half of this chapter to the song Saving Me by Nickleback, and the second half to the story title ****'****If There Is A light.****'**

**Feel free to listen to them -on low throughout the story so the lyrics don****'****t become too much of a distraction. I will place a symbol where the new song begins. I really hope you enjoy it, this one was hard & emotional to write.**

He didn't know how it had happened but he wished with all his might that it had not.

Walking among the motionless corpses that littered the quite battlefield, Athos squinted through the dense fog, trying to make sense of the scene he had been transported to while he had been seemingly unaware.

His breath caught in his throat when he recognized the familiar silhouette of an abandoned carriage in, the moonlight glinting off its golden encrusted edges and white painted exterior, its large form casting shadows at its based.

_He was back in the fields where they had been ambushed, _Athos realized.

_Had he never left?! Had he been taken off guard and knocked unconscious?_

Athos dismissed the frightening thoughts quickly.

_His brothers would not have abandoned him in his hour of need, surely he was not that worthless of a man that they too had seen through to his dark soul at last and left him without a second glance._

_Had they?_

Athos felt his throat tightening and his eyes becoming hot.

So _where were his brothers?_

Stumbling forwards suddenly as his boots caught on the bloodied arm of a dead man, Athos was forced to his knees harshly, his hands instinctively reaching out to slow his fall but recoiled as if stabbed at the scene that lay before him.

Only a few paces away, once hidden under the low hanging fog, now perfectly clear to his line of sight lay three slumped bodies, his brothers.

Their motionless, tattered clothing was covered thickly by what seemed to be their life's blood, their pale bluish faces deeply shadowed in the half light, accentuating their once rich cheekbones and hollowing out their once joyous, youthful eyes.

It would appear they had succumbed to a various assortment of injuries that covered their battered bodies from head to toe.

But of course they had died by one another's side, fighting tooth and nail into the very arms of death itself and leaving this world hand in hand.

Athos' traumatized mind was so shattered by the sight that he felt his eyes roaming their still forms in a state of detachment, surveying them as if he were performing his inspection duties back at the garrison.

Upon closer analysis, Athos noticed Aramis and D'artagnans dark hair was hanging into their eyes, making it appear as if they were staring at him menacingly through their brows.

Meanwhile, Porthos' eyes were so devoid of obstruction that it appeared he was staring at him wide eyed, so wide in fact, it almost looked as if he had no eyelids at all.

Coming back from his detached point of view, Athos shuffled closer, mouth agape in horror, eyes locked onto their seemingly accusing glares.

_Where had he been? Why hadn__'__t he been able to stop this!? How could he have been sleeping so selfish while his brothers lay here in death mere feet away!_

Athos clawed at his scalp as he screamed into the night for retribution, clumsily dragging the bodies of his limp brothers against his frame so he could hug his arms around their cold, stiff torsos.

_WHY!? _

Tears streaming down his face, Athos was barely able to see the figures of soldiers that marched passed him, all of them glancing down at the foursome with a mixture of slight pity and disdain.

Not once did they offer comfort or help as they passed them by in the night. _No body cared._

As the seconds crawled by timelessly, Athos thought he spotted the figure of a woman gliding among the moving soldiers, her sleek outline and red billowing dress appearing but for a moment before vanishing once more.

Athos put the vision down to his frayed wits, he must be seeing things ... anything would be better than looking into _their _eyes. He still couldn't confront the fact that not one but all three of his brothers were _dead_.

The woman suddenly appeared again, this time only fifty paces away and directly ahead, facing away from him to the side while her beautifully designed fan covered her features.

_Why was there a woman on the battlefield? Was she a nurse?... She certainly didn't look like one ...and how was it that she had travelled here in the dead of night without an escort?_

Athos rotated these questions in his mind as he watched her, keeping his shattered being busy with any distractions he could find.

It was in that instant that the woman turned her head to look at him, her black locks swinging around her face an eerie glint to her beautiful green eyes.

She began to approach Athos, apparently oblivious to his haunted appearance and the fact that his body was half covered in bloody corpses.

Her green eyes glowing maniacally as she paused to stoop in front of him, the mysterious woman lowered the fan from her face. _Milady._

Athos was taken aback, not knowing how to respond to her presence -and so resigned himself to surrender under her constant fury.

_He understood now that he deserved this pain._

She smiled down at him with a sickly sweet expression, eyeing the dead brothers in his arms as she stood back to her full height and began to circle him slowly, like a predator toying with its prey.

"Poor, poor Athos, you never could protect the ones you love" she cooed, feeling his heart breaking at her words.

Athos felt a stab of pain twist in his heart, he shook his head in denial.

"_Please... _stop" he begged, throat thick, fingers tight, tears streaming down his face.

"You let Thomas die and then you coldly murdered your wife. Hung her by the neck from the old oak tree they once made love by" she reminisced as if a narrator to a horror story.

"Please, I beg of you" Athos whimpered quietly, unable to reject her accurate accusations, drawing his dead brothers closer to his chest in search of comfort.

"-and now your absence has gotten _all _of your brothers killed before their time" she said with a smile.

"…poor, poor D'artagnan...still so young... about the same age as Thomas was when he-"

"ENOUGH!"

Athos wrenched himself from the throes of his nightmare to find himself curled up into a fetal position, shivering fitfully and letting out harsh panting noises, his throat tight as he held back his sobs that threatened to consume him.

Athos scanned the homely kitchen with blurry eyes, checking his most recent memories against that of his current surroundings, eventually confirming that he _had _been dreaming.

Despite this relieving conclusion, Athos still allowed himself the peace of mind he needed to desperately rove his eyes over his slumbering brothers, sighing as he noted they were alive and breathing.

Athos felt like crying all over again. This time tears of happiness. He wanted more than anything to hug them both and cling on tight...but he resisted. They needed to rest.

So instead, he let out another shaky breath, trying to tame his laboured breathing and compose his weary mind, eyes now alert as ever as they continued to roam around the room.

It was through his cursory search that Athos found another pair of green eyes staring back at him in the half light.

Almost succumbing to a heart attack at what Athos mistook as the eyes of his wife, milady, Miriam cautiously released herself from Aramis chest -not wanting to wake the fitfully sleeping soldier from his much needed rest- and ventured over to Athos' side, watching his face with sorrow and concern.

**~o0o~**

"Athos-" she pleaded in a hushed tone, placing a cool hand on his sweaty forehead.

Athos instinctively leant into her touch, comforted by the physically contact and absorbing this moment of peace before sheepishly looking up into her glittering green eyes.

"I'm so sorry if I woke you" Athos apologized, voice low but still thick with emotion, taking a second to swipe at his eyes in embarrassment and cough slightly, now unable to meet her gaze as he slowly straightened himself up against the wall.

Snapped back to formality by his sudden retreat, Miriam looked away for his benefit, her stare now seemingly impolite.

"Don't apologize" she stated softly causing his eyes to meet hers slowly as he thanked he silently.

After deliberating whether or not he should tell her, Athos took a few deep breaths to steel his resolve and dived in, "I dreamt I had lost my brothers...and then my past came to taunt me" Athos confessed quietly, eyes flickering between Miriam's and his boots.

Her heart broke at his soft admission, pitying this poor soldiers' fractured mind. It had no doubt taken courage to open up to a stranger such as she.

She listened patiently as he continued to offer her a few more details, her stomach coiling in pain at hearing the few tidbits regarding his lifetime of woe.

Miriam placed a hand on his and squeezed.

"Well, you're safe now. And your brothers are well' she comforted, looking around at the sleeping men.

Athos nodded slowly as he looked over at his brothers again, accepting the truth.

Miriam looked back over at the worn man in front of her, noting his haggard appearance and his still deeply soaked attire from blood of another.

_She needed to remove the harsh reminders _Miriam speculated, a frown on her face -_a bath would be perfect!_

"Come with me, lets get you tidied up" Miriam pressed.

Athos protested quickly with a shake of his head but she wouldn't take no for an answer, insisting he accompany her to the lavatory.

"That colour doesn't suit you at all" she jested, taking him off guard with her light humour and provoking a light smile, glad it was not forced.

Her eyes met his again, convincing him to stand slowly and follow her out into the unseen room behind the kitchen, padding over to the door and turning the knob quietly.

Once she had closed the door, Athos turned her softly.

" Thank you for your kindness" he spoke sincerely, eyes shining through to his soul.

Miriam nodded and excused herself to fetch the water from outside, promising it would be warm thanks to its position under warm summer sun that soared overhead in the day.

In her absence, Athos slowly began to unbutton his shirt, trying to ignore the memories that threatened to claim him at the sight of the blood stains and nicks from the swords of foes.

Upon her hasty return, Miriam was more than surprised to find him already shirtless.

She tried not to rake her eyes over his great physique, the smooth plains of his stomach, his strong shoulders and pectorals, the radiant muscles of his arms that told of his loyalty to his working lifestyle as a warrior- but of course she already had.

"Ah... you're spilling the water…" Athos interrupted hesitantly, brows knitted together in concern as she seemed to have drifted off somewhere.

Snapping back to attention, Miriam blushed furiously, straightening the slightly dipping buckets and pouring them into the bathtub, using this new position to hide her reddened face behind her dark streaming hair.

As she continued to pour, Miriam heard him unbuckling his belt behind her, followed by the sound of struggles as he hopped desperately on one foot -trying to keep his balance as he took off his boots.

Clad now only in his stained breeches, Miriam dared to turn to him and bid him a good night, but he interrupted her thoughts once again.

"Tomorrow, allow us to offer our services on the farm- it is only right to pull our share of the work if we are to live in the care of your hospitality while Porthos recovers" he stated, softly, tone low and unintentionally seductive.

Miriam mentally slapped herself.

_Get a hold of yourself woman! It__'__s not the first time you__'__ve seen a man nude- what with all the shameless brothers walking the house at night._

She blushed, causing Athos to raise a curious eyebrow at her random expression of embarrassment.

Miriam merely nodded her acknowledgement of the offer but gave him an appreciative smile.

"It would serve to tame pa's temper ...and lengthen his patience" she admitted.

Athos nodded in agreement, taking in her shy smile and sparkling green eyes. _Beautiful_.

The two shared a nervous smile but suddenly shook themselves from their stupor, taking notice of the silence that had stretched on awkwardly long again leading them to gawk at each other absently.

Athos coughed nervously and Miriam noticed he was waiting for her to close the door so he may undress.

Blushes in embarrassment for the third time in a row, she hastily made her retreated from the room leaving Athos to smile at her humorous nature, a feeling of warmth spreading over his body as he stripped at sat in the warm bath, tense muscles relaxing while a smile gripped his features.

It was in the tub that Athos came to realize he was developing feelings for this woman.

Groaning at what that might mean he promptly submerged his head under the water.

**7 pages, a little too long, I know -sorry.**

**I really do hope you liked it though! **_**Please **_**let me know what you thought of their interaction with a review, I'm new to 'couple situations' so a readers insight would mean the world to me!**


	8. Path of Destruction

**WOW thank you so much for the many follows and lovely reviews! *hugs***

**-Another long chapter for you here -I hope to keep you busy and entertained while I write ahead in preparation for work coming my way...****warning- ****there is a little graphic imagery in here, nothing as hardcore as last time- but just fyi.**

**Anyway, for those of you missing D****'****artagnan, here you go!**

FLASHBACK- Five Hours Earlier

After riding like the wind to Paris and depositing the badly shaken to a spluttering Treville at the musketeer garrison, D'artagnan had wasted no time in replenishing his supplies - his only exchange being to swap his exhausted horse for a fresh energetic mare- before he took off once more, back out into the night air.

_He had already wasted precious hours just reaching the garrison and would waste even more just trying to return to the scene where they had been ambushed. No doubt finding it in the dark would make it even hard and cost him even __**more **__time._

_Time he didn__'__t have._

D'artagnan tried not to hyperventilate as his mind swam with images of his brothers who were still out there, somewhere, alone and at the mercy of the elements, assailants -and in Porthos' case- time itself.

_God knows they could use all the help they could get._

D'artagnan didn't bother to feel guilty about leaving Treville behind, without even the slightest debriefing. His captain was as resourceful as they came, he would find out the truth soon enough.

In the mean time, D'artagnan knew it was his duty as a brother, not just a soldier, that he find his friends as soon possible.

That optimistic outlook he always held in check, even in the darkest of hours, was beginning to waver now as the minutes turned into hours and hours turned into three or four, time warring on mercilessly on yet there was no sight, trail or sign of his beloved brothers.

It was during the brief times that D'artagnan could not help but ponder the worst of his kin -though he was adamant to refuse such notions.

_They had been through worse... they could easily pull through this...right?_

As D'artagnan continued to scour the farmlands, the light of dawn began to peek over the horizon, forcing him to acknowledge that this meant at least five hours since he had seen hiss friends alive.

_A lot could happen in five hours. He would know _D'artagnan thought grimly, spurring his horse into a desperate gallop up another summer meadow; its bountiful flowers, sweet smells and bright colours brining no joys to his world of grey.

Despite the warmth this summer day would bring, D'artagnan felt numb with the cold that clawed against his insides, the worry for his brothers tearing at his heart. He didn't know how much longer he could withstand this bone deep pain, it would surely drive him mad.

_But giving up wasn__'__t an option. _

_If his brothers could escape a battle -one of them critically wounded, and travel so far through these meadows in a single night, with no supplies and somehow find a shelter- considering they could not be seen- then D__'__artagnan could hardly stop to wallow in his pities._

And so he looked, non stop, high and low, through every valley, every small patch of forest, behind every hill, every derelict barn, urging his mare faster and faster, not daring to rest until he saw their faces again.

It was through this ever observant nature that D'artagnan spotted a thin trail of smoke drifting into the air atop the crest of a hill surrounded by birch trees.

_A campfire!_

Pulling harshly on the reigns and spurring his horse into a new run, D'artagnan felt his spirits begin to soar with renewed hope.

_This was the first sign of life he__'__d seen in hours! This _had _to be his brothers! Who else would be sitting outside, in the middle of the fields at this early hour and be cooking something._

Suddenly the hairs on the back of D'artagnans neck pricked up, encouraging him to slow his pace, taking a second glance at the trail of smoke, his eyes narrowing in suspicion.

_This was too easy... _D'artagnan frowned, now forcing his mare to a full stop, his mind adding ever growing reasons to his hunch -it was what Athos would do after all, 'think things out logically' as he'd probably say. And so D'artagnan did.

_His brothers wouldn't be sitting outside, in the middle of a field, defenceless _D'artagnan began logically_. _

_-Doing so would have to mean that they had given up entirely on seeking medical aid for Porthos, their loving brother whom they would __**never **__give up on. _

_-They had been so sure that they would find this aid that they had taken a calculated risk, in the dead of night, into unknown territory to do so- and yet they had given up? Highly unlikely _D'artagnan surmised.

_-And on top of all this, had they even needed to stop for the night -for whatever unknown reason- they had _dared _to present themselves as easy targets by cooking on an open flame -when they knew their assailants were still roaming free? AND allow this smoke to drift high into the air? _Never_!_

_Besides, they hadn__'__t even brought enough rations to cook in the first place!_

Though normally D'artagnan would have been proud for making such wise deductions independently, in this case his blood began to boil.

Their assailants were sitting up on that ridge having a merry old breakfast barbeque D'artagnan figured, hands curling into fists.

Rage churning at his insides as D'artagnan realized he would have to leave them be, he offered a final glare and spat in their direction before nicking his mare back into motion, continuing on his quest to find his brothers.

He was out manned, out gunned and his brothers _needed _him! And so on he rode.

As he rode, D'artagnan tried to keep his anger bottled down as he knew Athos would do, trying his best to scan the area for any signs of life -and keep down the urge to turn back and slay their midnight attackers while _they _were unprepared.

It was two hours further into D'artagnans maddening search before he received his next clue -though he was not aware of it at the time.

Across the horizon lay a collection of homes, no doubt a small village.

He was glad to see thick black streams of smokes rising above it, that must mean people were up and about for their daily work -more importantly, available for questioning on the disappearance of his brothers.

It was only as he rode closer that D'artagnan saw that he had misjudged what had appeared to be a village from afar. All that was left here was burnt out ruins.

And they were still burning, _fresh_.

Worry tearing at his heart once more, D'artagnan raced his horse over to get a better view of the destroyed little town, a prayer escaping his lips as he hoped he would not find his brothers here.

_Oh the cruel irony _D'artagnan thought miserably, _first I want them, now I wish them gone, why does fate taunt me so!_

Aligning himself with what would have been the beginning of main street, D'artagnan slowly dismounted, left hand resting against the hilt of his sword while he slowly tugged the reigns for his mare to follow him as he ventured in.

It had not been a very large town to begin with, D'artagnan could only distinguish sixteen individual lumps amidst the crumbling ruins, perhaps stores and homes that had ones lined the area.

He couldn't be sure if there had been more standing; most of what remained now was made up of blackened, smouldering debris and piles of burning kindling.

However, those that did 'stand,' remained to lean inwards dangerously, their bricks now black and burnt, tendrils of the roaring high fires now imprinted into the shaped of black tendrils as if a shadow of the night before.

Dark sacks of animal feed lay strewn against the half crumbling archways of doors along the side of the dirt street but their were no horses in sight, strange.

Chickens and other loose animals like dogs and pigs also roamed the area of the empty street, going about their business as if it were usual.

Peering down to the very end of the street, D'artagnan noticed an odd banner lying across the width of the road, between the black crinkles, a half singed symbol in its center on the floor at the end of the street.

_It looked familiar but then again, he was probably looking too far into things again, trying to see things that weren__'__t there, desperate to find clues that may lead him to his brothers._

Exhaustion did strange things to the mind.

It was in that instant that D'artagnans whole body caught a shiver, his sense of sound informing him about the lack of sounds usually omitted by _survivors_.

It was an awfully sinister atmosphere to D'artagnan after that particular realization, feeling like every footfall he made from here on out was on another mans grave.

There had been no tears of agony over lost ones, no shrieks of pain, no movement what so ever.

Hoping his brothers were not here again, D'artagnan began his search, not quite sure where else to start but peering through the debris and peeking his head into blackened door frames.

On one such particular occasion, he entered a semi standing brick house through what remained of its arched door, its unnatural, coal black ceiling the first thing he noticed about the interior.

Eyes adjusting to dimness but continuing to squint through the thick ashes that hung in the air, D'artagnan took in what was left of the burnt out shell of a one loving and peaceful home.

The sight that awaited him was enough to stir up D'artagnans suspicions about the fire being accidental.

Tables had been forcefully thrown up against the walls, chairs splintered into pieces and lying about across the shrivelled up woollen rugs.

Portraits that had once hung on the walls looked as if they had been torn up and shredded by hand, the large strips charred at the edges as they lay around in different parts of the room, impossibly far from each other.

Curtains that had once hung draped by the window sill were now only tattered strings hanging to the top of their perch, they seemed flecked with some sort of liquid, their original colour lost to D'artagnans eyes as it had been darkened by the heat of the flames.

_Even if they had been trying to escape this natural disaster, surely, the fleeing occupants would not have been able to dismember their living quarters on the way out._

Suddenly the ceiling groaned and the roof partially collapsed in the opposite corner to D'artagnan, a dark object dropping through from the half demolished second landing.

Standing stock still and holding his breath, D'artagnan waited patiently for the ashes to settle once more before cautiously stumbling over the rubble towards the mysterious 'thing.'

As he got closer he noticed that 'thing' had a rank stench to it, its once pale skin now charred and blistered, a dead body.

D'artagnan clapped a hand over his mouth and nose, his expression one of horror as he noticed the unnatural gash that stretched along the old mans throat, _slain not burnt alive_.

Taking a shaky step back, D'artagnans foot slipped on an uneven -but soft- object, causing him to glance down at it in question.

He was beyond mortified to find it was the length of a charred arm protruding from underneath the table, blood spilling out across the floor underneath it-no doubt once red but brown now.

Trying to hold back the urge to gasp in shock, if not for the smell alone, D'artagnan quickly back-pedalled from the home of death and back out onto the lonely street, eyes wide and taking in the ruined village from a new perspective as pieces of the puzzle came together slowly.

Not wanting to be right but not having the choice but to check, D'artagnan shakily forced himself over to one of the sacks of feed he'd seen all about the place, grinding to a halt five paces back as he acknowledged it was in fact the back of a corpse strewn on the floor.

Blood poured from the young woman's nose and mouth, her face pale blue, eyes hollow and unseen, mouth wrenched open in a final scream of terror.

_She had been burning bright with the happiness of youth and all its innocence only hours before ...but now lay in an empty street, extinguished from the world by the venomous hatred of those who had no souls._

D'artagnan raised his head slowly, heart throbbing with fear, hair standing up on the back of his neck as he took in all the other 'sacks of horse feed' littering his close surroundings.

_It had been a slaughter. A mindless, senseless slaughter._

Covering a hand to his mouth D'artagnans legs gave out beneath him and he sank down to his knees, overwhelmed.

Taking a moment, D'artagnan slowed his breathing and attempted to compose his broken thoughts, bracing himself as he stood to his feet and began the search for his brothers that may lie among the many bodies strewn here.

Each twisted face he checked, burned into the back of his mind, their trapped and forgotten souls ready to haunt him with their silenced woes, D'artagnan already knew he would see their faces again, numerous times in the darkness of night, from this moment forward.

Minutes ticked by until eventually D'artagnan had checked every body.

Though he could not say he was relieved, his chest felt less constricted at the hopeful thought that he had not found his brothers' corpses among the dead.

Walking aimlessly down the street, mumbling small prayers as he had seen Aramis done many a time before, D'artagnan found himself once more level with the banner.

He studied the symbol with more scrutiny this time, _it could be important. It seemed out of place here...almost as if it had been left behind on purpose..._

_The assailants from last night! How could he have been so blind? It must have been them! Who else would commit such a random act of violence__…_D'artagnan paused.

_No, this was not random...violent yes, but they had come for a reason...they must have been searching for the musketeers__…__they knew one had been hurt!_

D'artagnan was suddenly assaulted by a memory of the campfire smoke he'd spied on his trek, now wondering if indeed it had just been a campfire or something more like this, he shuddered.

Flustered with his new findings, D'artagnan raced back over to his horse.

_If the assailants were going about this methodically -which it seemed they were, judging by the path of destruction they were leaving in their wake- they would eventually stumble across his brothers!_

He just had to reach them first.

**Another cliff hanger! Yay! **

**I will be forced to update more slowly than usual now, most likely updating in the evenings since my university courses resumes again starting tomorrow and carry on through until April, so i'm sorry in advance if i miss out a day or two, but I will do my best to update regularly!**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you think! Until next time! **


	9. Emergency

**So it seems this whole, uploading 7 pages worth of a chapter is becoming a common thing for me -I hope you guys don****'****t mind the length! Let me know if you do any I****'****ll try my best to cut them up a bit... somehow.**

**-I didnt have time to proofread, so sorry if there's any errors-let me know and i'll fix them!**

**I also recently had a major rearrangement in plot, so that****'****s why I have a flashback in here, even though the setting doesn****'****t change -so, sorry if it seems confusing, i did my best to smooth it out (thus long chapter) lol.**

**Anyways, Enjoy!**

As they had promised, Athos and Aramis had risen from their slumber at the crack of dawn to help Miriam work her daily labours about the farm.

Many hands would make light work, besides, it was the least they could do to try and repay her for her hospitality and saving Porthos' life -while the man slept peacefully in her bed, continuing to rest on his long road to recovery.

However, as duty called, Athos had wisely taken a moment before the start of his day to borrow one of Miriams' messenger pigeons and attach a brief note of their health and whereabouts before sending it off to Paris; hoping Treville and D'artagnan may find comfort in knowing where his men were at long last.

"Why-wont-you-just-get-out!" Athos grunted, tugging as hard as he could at the leafy stalks of a stubborn carrot that dearly wanted to stay in the ground -to his rising frustration.

_The potatoes weren__'__t even half as tricky as these orange devils _Athos growled_, _planting his boots either side of the plant in the soil and using his combined weight and strength to yank the carrot from the ground.

"AHA!" Athos exclaimed, a triumphant grin on his face as he raised the carrot above his head to tease Aramis.

Aramis looked back at him, not seeming the least bit annoyed as nodded to his 'prize' with a cheeky grin, shaking his head.

Confused, Athos lowered the carrot to his face to find it was not entirely whole, that it had either snapped in half somewhere under the soil or some manner of rodent had eaten the bottom end.

Athos threw it to the ground, more than a little peeved his efforts had been for nothing.

The sound of Miriam laughing at his expense did lessen the mood however, as her high pitched cackles and snorts provoked a light grin to break out on Athos' face, Aramis mirroring the action merely due to her strange laugh itself.

Assuming the dreaded, back breaking position once more, Athos bent over and reached for the next stupid carrot stalk, hitching his itchy overalls up slightly as they rubbed uncomfortably against hit legs.

Miriam had leant the brothers some farming clothes from her brothers vacant rooms where Porthos' now slept, though the remaining garments were far between sizes and left a lot to be admired comfort wise.

Athos rolled his eyes and tried to suck it up, he had never realized to the full extent how tough farm work could be.

_That was probably due to the fact that his past life as a comte had never required any physical or manual labour be done; his acquired wealth and status meaning that the salvaging work would be done for him before being prepared and delivered via his servants to a plate. _

_You could never truly win though. Even if you were of the high life, full of social standards and expectations, you found yourself boxed up into a cage for eternity. Likewise, if you suffered at the limitations of a low wealth and status, you too would remain in a cage. Life could be so cruel._

Athos frowned at the harsh truth. He was glad for this new life as a musketeer, though it also had its ups and downs -in most cases, extreme- the experiences had all been worth it; teaching him new values and providing him with a more appreciative outlook on life that he simply would never have seen otherwise.

_That didn__'__t mean he hated pulling carrots any less _Athos concluded, growling aloud as he tugged without success at the new carrot stalk.

After a few minutes of pulling and failing to remove said carrot, Athos stood up, his head spinning dizzily with a rush of blood to the head, his spine snapping loudly as it cracked back into place.

Wiping a dirty hand over his sweaty brow, Athos chanced a look over to Aramis and Miriam.

He had made sure to stay well away from her after he noticed his warm feelings for her return to him when he had accidentally brushed her hand while passing the shears.

The moment had been tense, but of the kind that made him smile with nervous energy.

Athos easily recalled how he had wanted to dash away as fast as his feet could carry him while she stood there and stared at him longingly but his respectful upbringing had kept his cowardly feelings at bay and so he stood dutifully by her side to pass her the few tools while she picked out ears of corn.

He smiled again as he recalled her attempt at humour to break the awkward silence, jesting to him about their need to conjure up a 'corny joke' for their current situation forcing him to release his caught breath in a bark of laughter.

There eyes had met again, not just seeing but _gazing _into each other; that spellbinding moment that kept occurring and leaving his legs rooted to the ground while his upper body worked up a sweat and his stomach tied itself in knots.

_How did she disarm him so easily!?_

Giggling like an idiot, Athos' drifting eyes caught onto her flower patch over yonder, a small bushel of forget me knots snapping his mind out of his warm trance, his smile fading into a sad frown.

Once the symbol of his love to another woman, now only a cold reminder that left him deep in the bottle.

_And Miriams eyes, oh those beautiful green eyes, but why did they have to be green? Green to Athos was the colour of envy, the colour of deceit, the colour that looked into your soul while it fiercely ripped out your beating heart- or he supposed more accurately, those were the green eyes of Anne._

But he couldn't overcome the connection.

Her sparkling green eyes had met him in confusion, his sudden cold shoulder and avoidance of her gaze leaving her slightly stunned.

Offering up a poor excuse to get more work done apart than they could accomplish together, Athos had wandered over to her carrot patch a fair distance away and buried his head down into the bush, obscuring his strange expression from her eyes.

Athos cringed at the memory and looked over to his brother, Aramis, hoping to distract his dark invasive thoughts with friends humorous antics.

Aramis it seemed was putting all of his weight into pulling a turnip from its deeply rooted, underground lair, his success in doing so, spoiled as his momentum and lack of balance lead him upended himself in the dirt when it came flying free of its purchase.

Miriam laughed manically at seeing this and managed to catch Athos' gaze to share in her delight; his body instinctively releasing a sudden flare at her smile, the warmth invading his being, leaving his legs feeling weak and his pulse racing as his heart seemed to swell in his chest.

Realizing once again that he was stood staring at her dumbly, Athos quickly took a knee and buried his face back into the bush, face heated with embarrassment but smiling slightly.

_Perhaps I was wrong_, Athos pondered, _maybe just maybe he could move past Anne...it had been so long since he__'__d felt love that he wasn__'__t sure he would ever feel it again... But as of lately, his body was providing him with new shocking evidence that conflicted with these once sturdy theories. _

Perhaps with Miriam...he could be happy….?

Athos let a dumb grin spread across his face as he let that thought sink in, a light, hopeful mood he hadn't had the pleasure of feeling in years.

He supposed his mood was also part due to Porthos as his brother had awoken later last night- to their overwhelming joy.

FLASHBACK

Porthos let out a low moan, his growing awareness alerting him to the textile changes of cushions under his aching back and tired head, the hair on the backs of his arms bristling against the warm, soft sheets that covered his chest and provided him with a faint but pleasant smell of lilacs.

It was though these soothing, gentle touches that Porthos peacefully slid open his eyes to take in the world of the living.

Though it was dark, Porthos could see the outline of shapes cautiously approaching his bed; his thoughts of worry turning to feelings of comfort as he noticed the telltale, confident walk of Athos and the gliding walk of Aramis, their figures slowly descending to kneel by his head.

"What happened?" Porthos demanded quietly, blurrily taking in his now tranquil surroundings of a cream coloured room, with minimal but complimentary furnishings that spoke of a persons care and love. A home.

"We retreated" Aramis whispered, palm stroking away at his sweaty brow with a cool flannel, _a most heavenly feeling._

Porthos frowned in confusion, _retreat?_

"We found a most kind and generous woman who gave us aid in treating your wound" Athos added, resting a hand against Porthos shoulder, his eyes on the shadow of Miriam standing in the corner of her room.

Porthos followed Athos' unusually warm gaze over to a beautiful woman standing in the half light, tears beginning to prick at his eyes as he offering her a weak but heart felt smile of thanks accompanied by the slight incline of his head -the best bow he could manage under the circumstances.

The sincerity of his soulful gaze brought a tear to her own eyes and she mocked a light hearted curtsy, _you are very welcome._

Glancing around again, slowly, so that his tired eyes could keep up, Porthos licked at his dry lips and asked, "Where is D'artagnan?"

_The atmosphere felt slightly unbalanced without his youthful presence and it worried Porthos._

"He has most likely just reached the garrison with our charge and be briefing Treville as we speak to plan a search party" Athos comforted, humorously, meeting Porthos' fleeting glance with assuredness.

Porthos nodded once and rested his head back down into his pillows, his eyes beginning to droop.

"Rest now, brother, you will need to restore your strength if we are to ride soon and meet up with D'artagnan" Aramis jested lightly, rubbing Porthos' head with playful tenderness.

Porthos grunted lightly, "Whelp" he corrected and closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep.

END FLASHBACK

"I'll be goin' into town now" the old man rudely called from the house, interrupting Athos' pleasant memories.

_The town? How had they missed a town?! _

Aramis seemed to read his mind and promptly asked the man such.

"Are you blind? There's a big town only fields over in a valley" the man replied, snidely.

_Ah, that would explain it, _Athos thought, _there was no way they could__'__ve spotted a town in a valley, in the dark, _he shook his head -slightly exasperated. _At least they had managed to find some kind of aid, he didn__'__t really care where it was from._

"I may pick up some supplies for yuh' friend while i'm out... he's looking kind'a peaky" the added -the first move he'd made towards any kind actions before storming back over to the barn to mount his horse.

Aramis and Athos shared a nervous glance, dropping their duties immediately and setting off for the house.

"-and i dont want no funny buisness!" the man called as he began to prod his horse into a canter, eyeing the suspiciously fleeing men as they tried to shirk their responsibilities.

Athos and Aramis humoured his outrageous claim and took a moment to stop, smile and bow their agreement of his rules, maintaining the reassuring facade until he had turned his back once more.

Without a second to lose, the brothers hastily resumed their run and dashed up to Miriams room where Porthos had been lodging, the woman herself, hot on their heels.

Upon entering, the men were overcome with the unpleasant smell that accompanied the sickly, the thick stench hanging heavily as they entered the room, worried eyes spying their dear brother, Porthos, writhing around on his bed, captured in the throes of a raging fever.

His body had since soaked itself in sweat causing the sheets to damp and twist around his limbs and obstruct movement under their tightening knots, only provoking his further struggles to rip free.

Porthos' chest ceased with each heavy pant and incessant shiver, the movements causing a number of painful tugs at his stitches, lines etching their way into his brow as his face contorted into misery, reflecting the level of suffering his body was putting him through and leading him to mumble incoherently.

The atmosphere was tense with concern as the three rushed to his side, moving as if to help but hesitating inches away, not wanting to wake and alarm him in his state.

Aramis mind swam with medical theories, eyes darting around at nothing as he sought desperately for the correct method, Athos standing by waiting nervously.

"This could be a sign of infection" Aramis pointed out grimly, not wanting to believe his own words as he slowly leant over and put two fingers to Porthos' jugular, checking his fast pulse and timing it while Miriam swept back the sheets to peek under his slightly soggy bandages for such an infection.

"The verdict" Athos asked her quietly.

"Puss" she admitted quietly, crestfallen with concern.

"Then we must find a physician, this is too serious" Athos immediately replied, his no nonsense tone belaying his worry in his urge for a cure.

Aramis nodded once while Miriam stayed silent, allowing them room for any further decisions unable to omit a feeling of sadness that washed upon her as she was unwittingly outcast from the group.

"You should bring him to the nearby village my pa set off to, they have a basic doctor" Miriam suggested.

The men held her gaze, their stiff postures relaxing slightly as they processed the information, smiling at her gratefully, there was _a glimmer of hope._

She gave Athos some rudimentary directions as Aramis scooped Porthos' out of bed and slung him carefully over his shoulder causing him to wheeze in pain quietly.

Athos nodded, memorizing the details as they left her lips before following Aramis back down the stairs from Miriams' room; Athos' tone was serious as he talked along the way.

"We must pack immediately" he concluded, talking more to himself now than the others, pacing around the kitchen gathering their uniforms and weapons while Aramis set off out the front door to his horse in the stables, Porthos' still in tow.

Miriam stood back sadly as she watched them busy themselves, preparing to leave and perhaps never return.

Tears sprang to her eyes and she hastily wiped them on the backs of her hands before anyone could see her crying.

She hadn't realized how attached she'd become...until now.

**Aw poor Miriam, i think she has abandonment issues :( but we cant exactly let Porthos****'**** wither away now can we? And what****'****s going on with D****'****artagnan and the ever looming assailants? **

**Find out next time! **

**haha sounds like a tv show -oh wait ;)**


	10. A Man Without Limits

**Thank you for all your continued support in my work and letting me know you****'****re okay with the style/length! Good to know I****'****m on the right track! **

**-I did have a snow day from university yesterday, but I was also running on 4 hours sleep, so this is an intentionally short chapter (5 pages). I will redeem myself tomorrow, I promise! **

**Sorry about the delay, I have a number of things starting up again now...aaaaanyways, here****'****s the next chapter! OC villain btw-Enjoy!**

While Athos and Aramis hastily gathered their supplies from the house; racing against time to save their ailing brother, only fields away, a battle was nearing its end; the few, townspeople left standing in the hidden valley now at the mercy of their bloodthirsty assailants.

The most merciless of the attackers, was of course their leader, a man who was also known for holding the notoriously fearsome title of Porteur de la Mort, or bringer of death.

Once having lived the peaceful, high life of any common lord, Porter; for that was his _real _name, had ruined his title and wealthy status when he had boldly confronted the king regarding the hand of his sister in marriage- complaining rashly when she had rejected him.

He could admit it now... he had been reckless, arrogant and bordering on harassment, one of the many attributes of the narrow minded upper class.

But what was done, was done, and Porter found himself quickly removed of his title, estate, and therefore, forced out to live on the streets; his name slandered to such an extent that no man would give him work.

And so he took to the criminal life, taking only what he needed at first until, slowly, he developed skilled hands as a thief, from there rising up through the ranks, gaining new power and respect -his fortunate upbringing giving him enough intellect and wit to accomplish more dastardly deeds like no other criminal could.

Though it seemed like a life time ago, and perhaps it was, Porter now relished his new heightened position as fearsome and ruthless killer, acquiring many greedy and desperate criminals such as he had been to fight for their common goal -to ransack the king of his riches while taking out as many of his beloved guards and musketeers as they could.

_An ironic twist on the word payback._

The way he saw it, if _he _couldn't have the woman that had stolen his heart, then he would live to make the king suffer by any means he could muster -even if that meant burning down his common wealth around him, town by town, destroying his profits and dispatching any soldiers who came to stand in his way.

It had just so happened that Porter had been informed that their governor had been 'open for questioning' on his journey home through the country last night; carrying a most significant piece of parchment that permitted a 'crackdown of sorts on the criminal filth that was ravaging the outlying areas of his majesties land as of late.'

That simply could not do, and so Porter and his men had swiftly plotted and ambush -and failed!

He had been furious! There had only been four worthy opponents to offer them any resistance and yet they had managed to fulfil their duties.

Those facts cut him to the quick, _FOUR MUSKETEERS, FOUR!?_

_No man had ever dared to take him on, no man had ever been able to take away his wealth and strip him of his pride again since that dark day in his life, many years ago._

_Had anyone attempted such, he would have merely killed them on the spot and hardly bat an eye._

_And yet- FOUR lowly musketeers had managed to not only outwit, outmanoeuvre and escape his men, but prevent him from reaching his goal _and _drastically reduced his followers by at least a third!_

With this outraging thought rolling around his mind, Porter brought his cutlass down

hard, finishing the helpless farmer with a chop to the neck, his head tumbling off his shoulders as his bloodied body collapsed in the dirt street.

Finding _some _manner of comfort at this, Porter allowed himself a small smirk, _at least _something _was going right _he mused, a small grin forming wickedly as he eyed his work.

At this, Porter casually turned around to watch the last of his men dealing with their opponents; easily trading blows with the defenceless farmers and waiting them out as they weakly tossed all matter of objects, pitchforks and rocks at them in desperation, until finally, they were backed into a corner and stabbed through the heart.

_This was almost too easy, _he thought with a smirk, sheathing his sword and brushing his gloves together, swaggering over to his second in command with an air of confidence.

As he passed over he managed a wink to his few straggling men who grinned in return as they dragged the remaining women, screaming out of their houses, and towards the vacant church to have some 'fun.'

Finally reaching his blood spattered comrade, Porter clapped a hand to his shoulder in appreciation of his work, the man grinning widely with pride, panting slightly as the adrenaline continued to course through his veins.

"What say you?" Porter asked gruffly, looking around at the demolished town once again, bodies now strewn across the short radius, tainting the 'soon-to-be-burnt-homes' in crimson rivers that flowed from the dead or dying.

"What do you mean, sir?" the man asked formally; he had learnt the hard way never to address his master as anything but sir, the pain in his fingers that flared up every winter providing him with a harsh reminder, should he forget again.

"-Well, if the musketeers weren't at _this _village and they weren't at the village that we burnt down earlier, what do you suppose that means?" Porter asked calmly, his patience wearing thin when he had not received an immediate answer.

"Uh….that we've gone too far?" the man fumbled, looking at his hands and nervously picking at his nails.

"_No_…try again" Porter replied quietly, a cold and slightly menacing expression beginning to take over his deathly white face, his wild dark eyes boring holes into his mans skull.

"They're already... dead?" he ventured, heading further and further from Porters' 'correct' answer.

Patience depleted, Porter suddenly cuffed his foolish second upside the head, making sure he titled his fist just enough for his rings to catch against his scalp.

"You pathetic fool!" he roared, "It's no _wonder _we haven't found those cowardly musketeer scum yet -as you clearly lack the mental capacity to direct our scouts with an ounce of logic" he fumed, raising his fist again as if to hit the man, making him cower.

_He already knew he could exert fear upon others without physical abuse, so why bother tiring himself out?_

His man shrank back in fear, hand pressed against the painfully forming bruise on the back of his head, not daring to meet the mans eyes as he began to pace back and forth in front of him, noticing the way his expensive black boots shined in the sunlight -yet another 'gift' from the king.

Still not sure what his master wanted of him, the man wisely chose to remain silent.

Sighing in frustration, Porter answered for him, "They must be on a small farm" he explained.

"-The townspeople certainly haven't seen anyone by their description...unless they had be lying to us for no reason..." Porter ranted.

"-though I highly doubt they would so foolish enough to lie under such dire circumstances, especially as after i'd put my pistol in their face" he added, a smirk upturning the corner of his lips as he recalled the terror in their eyes, it made him want to laugh in their faces, just the rush that it gave him!

"-therefore they _must _have stumbled across some small lodgings, a house perhaps" Porter finished, turning back to eye his ever so slightly trembling second.

"Hey, I think I saw a small farm only a short ways from here!" a passing man of Porters called, not bothering to give him eye contact as he rifled through the pockets of the dead for any valuable items or coin they may have been carrying.

Porter raised an eyebrow at this, _he had seen no such farm..._

_They would have to get atop this valley then, _he concluded, _then perhaps they might be able to spot it._

Porter quickly left instructions to his nearest brother in arms, ordering them to light the place when they were done scouring while he and his man scoured the view above the rise over yonder.

Never being the one to actually do the trivial work, Porter waited -none too patiently- for his man to finishing scoping the area with his eyeglass and deliver a report.

"Well I don't see nothing" he stated finally, shoulders slumped in defeat.

Tempted to put his fist through the incompetent mans face, Porter did his best to reign in his temper and snatched the eyeglass from his hands with a "Give me that!" before peering through it to survey the land.

"Firstly," he chided, "the proper term would have been 'anything' not nothing" Porter corrected, snidely, eyes still continuing to squint through the glass as he performed the task at hand, feeling rather than seeing his man bowing his head, face heated with embarrassment while his master took pleasure in scolding him like a small child.

"Secondly-" Porter began, his arms jerking to a stop as he spotted a small lump atop a farm -no doubt a farmhouse, "-you completely failed to fulfil your duties -as their is in fact a farm not but a hundred yards from here" he finished coldly, whipping the eyeglass into the mans stomach, smiling at the pained sound he made as he fumbled to place it back in his belt.

Porter lowered the eyeglass and his gleeful grin for having found a new, promising target, instead glaring down at his man. "Get the men ready" he ordered icily, "we ride within the hour" he added, stalking back down the rise towards the burning buildings, his second stumbling down behind him, keeping his distance.

It would appear time was running out for the musketeers, if they didn't leave soon, they might not be leaving at all.

**Cliff hanger, ooooh! lol**

**Let me know what you****'****re thinking with a review! Until next time, my pretties!**


	11. Can't Fight This Feeling

**I didn****'****t intend to put so much emotion into this chapter -but I happened to be listening to a moving song-for me anyway- and so my writing was affected accordingly. So feel free to play the link below throughout the chapter as I did -its not exactly perfect mood wise but it might help:**

** /?v=9qvglWAHDak#Ludovico_Einaudi_-_divenire**

**-If not, I still really hope you enjoy this chapter! xox**

There was something in the air that didn't feel right to Aramis, his spine tingling oddly as his hair stood on end, the haunting feeling chilling him to the core and warning him of a threat he could not see.

It was like waiting for the other foot to fall...though he hoped they would not be under it when it did.

Aramis shook his head to dismiss his paranoid delusions, _he was probably just overtired and high strung with concern over his brother. _

He looked down to his brother then, his sickly pale brother, caught in the throes of agony.

_He could have stopped this from happening. Should have stopped this from happening. But he hadn__'__t. He had just stood there while Porthos had been attacked from behind and then again when he bled out on the ground. _

_Just stood and stared. _

_How could he call himself a brother if he just stood and stared at his brothers in their time of need!_

_Porthos was one of the very few lights left in his life and it was threatening to go out. He didn__'__t know how he could live without that man, he knew him inside and out, knew him so well it was almost like wearing a second skin, a skin that he understood much more than his own._

_Porthos may have a tough exterior but it never quite managed to mask his loving soul inside; his sunny eyes and bright smile transferring to all that met him as soon as he entered a room, his positivity and never say die attitude admired by all._

_He couldn__'__t leave him from this world, not like this._

Aramis blinked his eyes furiously to prevent his tears from falling as he hugged his brother into an upright position, noting his deathly pale skin, bloodshot eyes and fevered forehead.

He could already feel the heat radiating through his friend to seep into his stone cold chest.

_He didn__'__t deserve this. _Aramis sent another long prayer towards the beautiful, open blue skies.

_Perhaps someone was listening, should it be god or any other powers that be, he just wanted peace for his friend in the restoration of his health not in his death._

_He would promise anything, trade his soul, burn for his sins, swap places, scour the earth just please let Porthos live!_

Mentally exhausted and physically drained, the men finished loading their mounts before awkwardly levering Porthos up and onto his saddle, Aramis mounting behind him to keep him sturdy and upright.

They shared a glance of worry as Porthos let out a hiss of pain, back arching against Aramis chest as his brows knitted together. Aramis looked as if he were about to break down.

_Hang in there brother _Athos conveyed, the level of intense emotions saying all he needed to through his stormy eyes, sharing a strong stare with Aramis before gripping his knee in finality of the moment.

He then turned away to pace the few feet back to the door of what had once been their sanctuary to say his final farewells.

"I am truly sorry it had to end like this, Miriam" Athos stated guiltily, holding her shoulders at arms length and looking down into her green, concerned eyes, trying to pour the extent of his sincerity through their intimate physical contact.

"-Should you ever need our aid, at any moment, send word for me and I will come" he promised, squeezing her upper arms, needing her to understand.

Miriam held his gaze, eyes shining with compassion.

_This man before her disarmed her in every sense of the word, he thought so little of himself and so much for others, his lifetime of woes forgotten in the warm moments he found with his dearest friends, his real family and now she had his blessing to enter the intimate ring._

A single tear slid down her cheek, her eyes downcast.

Athos put his palm to her face gently, fingers cupping the back of her neck as his thumb wiped away her tear of anguish.

Miriam smiled lightly and let out a small laugh, raising her head so her eyes could meet his once more, "Who says I need a man to depend on?" she teased.

Athos titled his head, the rapid change in mood too fast for his mind to follow causing him to flinch slightly and remove his hand, face heating up in embarrassment but managing a smile as he saw the one plastered on her teary face.

_He had never been good at this flirting thing._

"Well, if not for your sake, Madame, then i may still return on my own...after all, i do have a score to settle with that carrot patch of yours" he grinned, "-if you don't take the time to confront or tame a beast it will become more than you can handle" he attempted.

_Not all women were evil. Perhaps this time he should try, harder, to keep one..._

Miriam grinned but the dark thoughts at the back of her mind stirred with sadness, _if only he could accept the value to those words in context to his history of woes._

Her grin fading to a smile, she stepped into his body and wrapped him in a tight embrace, his leather uniform smelling uniquely of the warrior he was, the gunpowder, berries of wine and straw of stables.

_It was comforting somehow._

Letting her free from his arms, Athos fingers dipped the brim of his hat before turning away, half heartedly to his horse.

Miriam brushed the steadily falling tears from her cheeks, how could she feel such sorrow over only knowing the man for a few hours?

She already knew the answer, it had echoed throughout her mind during his entire stay here.

_He was different. He was kind, loyal, fierce, bold, polite, giving, grounding, passionate, helpful and loving._

She smiled at him again as he nodded to her from atop his horse, trying to keep her body from crumpling to the ground as he turned to leave.

_She was just beginning to fall for this man and now he was leaving... he may not be allowed to return despite his promises, _Miriam worried.

"Say goodbye -and thank you to your father for us, when he returns" Athos called, Miriam nodding dutifully.

_They may even pass him through the valley on the way to the village, there was only really one way in and out_.

After a warm smile, Aramis was forced to turn his head at Athos' parting remark, his respect for caring woman leading him to roll his eyes in contempt without her seeing; _he would offer no such respect to her father after he__'__d tried numerous times to throw them out._

And with that, the brothers urged their mounts into a fast pace, their minds now focusing on the new, desperate need to find the aid of a proper physician -riding towards the valley ridge in a wide arc around the meadow in attempt to keep to the shadows.

Those men _were _still at large.

Only minutes into the field and a low rumble made itself known, the musketeers eyes meeting in concern as they stopped abruptly to scan the horizon.

There, not far away at their left hand side, pouring down from the valley ridge and spilling out into the meadows, was the large black form of thirty riders, the thunderous hooves of their many horses shaking the ground like an earth quake.

_They appeared to be heading straight for the farm..._

_MIRIAM! _Athos' thoughts cried out in alarm, half turning his mount before he even realized what he was doing.

Suddenly an arm ripped at his jacket and forced his turn to a halt.

"No, Athos!" Aramis commanded, tone lying between the anguish of understanding and the desperation to flee -for both cover an Porthos' sake.

Drawing his mount abreast so he could force Athos' attention to his own, Aramis coldly stated, "You must not intervene, brother. We cannot fight off against those odds, again" he looked to Porthos, pain clawing its way onto his stoic expression.

"Better to just allow them a peaceful acquaintance and move on" he finished.

"Thirty men are not used for peaceful acquaintances, Aramis!" Athos hissed.

"You know as well as i do who those riders are, we can't just abandon her in her hour of need when she worked so hard to aid us in ours" Athos pleaded, face conveying his deepest fears and inner emotions, much unlike his usual state in times of action.

Aramis sighed, "You are not listening, Athos! We are still outnumbered -and Porthos is sick, we need to go!" he heart tearing open with guilt at the storm of conflicting emotions on his brothers face, forcing him to go with his mind instead of his heart.

"We can return with aid once we have reached the town" he promised, fingers gripping both Porthos in his arms and Athos' shoulder across from him.

Athos growled, _he couldn__'__t argue with the logic, try as he might._

_Aramis was right, it would be densely foolish to attempt such a feat, not to mention dangerous and selfish._

Urging their mounts away from the scene in a hasty retreat to the cover of shade aligning the edge of the meadow, Aramis desperately hoped that the riders would not turn - for they would surely see their fleeing forms of their backs at this close of a range.

While his brother fretted beside him and sped his horse on further, Athos chanced a glance back at the farm house, spying her pale white dress out front of the old door while the black forms dismounted and walked ever closer.

_There were just so many and she was all alone..._

Athos forced himself to look away, pushing his feelings down and bottling them up so he could focus on the safety of his brother.

He could not however stop the tear that slid down his cheek as he rode for Athos was a man of passion.

_He lived to love yet it always seemed to be his undoing._

**I hope you liked reading it as much as I liked writing this chapter! Please let me know what you thought of it!**


	12. Unhappy Reunion

**Thanks for the lovely reviews and the new follows! Sorry about the slow updates, life has resumed it seems :/ This chapter was going to be much shorter but I ended up adding a new scene into it -to D'artagnans horror ;) **

**Oh well, I hope you enjoy this chapter!**

**Warning- this chapter is quite dark and detailed.**

After having set off as fast as his horse could take him, through the wide open plains of the farm lands -and scouring the area for at least another hour more- D'artagnan began to feel as if his luck was improving when he spotted the unavoidable tracks of at least thirty moving riders.

Though he instantly dreaded seeing the high number of assailants that still remained, the thought of following them to his friends was a much better idea than allowing them to get there first.

_At least with him hot on their heels, he would be able to alert his brothers and help them escape should he spot them in their sights- and until that time, he might also be able to prevent another attack on an unsuspecting town...though the __'__what__'__ was yet to be decided. _

And so, D'artagnan rode swiftly, dismounting once in a while to finger the hoof prints and test how fresh they were.

His anger flared once more as he spotted black tendrils of smoke ahead of him, an icy fire gripping his heart and stopping his lungs. _Another town had been claimed._

D'artagnans face twisted into one of pure rage, his brows knitting together, lip curling, teeth bared and his usually, big brown puppy dog eyes burning away to leave menacingly dark pits.

D'artagnan slowly urged his horse into a faster canter, picking up speed as he descended into a small valley that widened up into a bulge, the rising flames still seeking to consume the remainder of the ruins at its centre.

D'artagnan could tell from here there would be no survivors. He knew by now these men left nothing behind -be that a building or a person, it was all the same to them.

_Just touch, destroy and move on._

Unable to shield his eyes from the new horrors laying before him, D'artagnan took in the burning sight, one that rivalled the pits of hell or as close as he could imagine.

The buildings that had collapsed in on themselves were burning furiously already, the bricks and wooden beams cracked and tumbling from their lofty places, adding to the piles of climbing rubble.

The barn at the end of the gravel street was also burning brightly, dark plumes of smoke bending out and above the once red open doors and snaking to its steaming roof.

The once dry straw that littered its interior having fuelled the blaze like kindling, its light weight allowing it to separate into small flaming strands that took to the air, rising from the bales below and floating up to catch light in the haylofts.

Each house fared much the same, flames rising high against their fronts, their windows browning with the heat until they could take no more pressure from the heat and burst out onto the street, raining shards of glass all about.

As the inferno climbed up the wooden stairs and beams on their interior, its tendrils licked at the exterior paint, its once brilliant white paint colour now peeling back from the walls, cracking from its purchase and blackening into a crisp on the ground.

The local tavern seemed to have gone from the town first, its once sturdy shape, now looking more like a blown out tinder box; beams of its old walls, leaning outwards from their holes in the ground where they had once stood - the alcohol the tavern had once stored, having lead to an all out, fiery explosion.

But perhaps the most sinister sight of all was the town church that lay aflame at the opposite end of the street, the flames that devoured its high spire steeple having cut the rope that hung its bell.

At its base, the doors had been broken wide open to reveal the burning pews within where women's corpses sat. Their bodies visibly violated and left sprawled in hideous positions while the flames claimed them of their identity, burning away their features -almost as if to erase their horrors and clean away the harsh truth.

D'artagnan all but fell from his saddle as he spotted the church, falling to his hands and knees as he retched onto the dirt, the image of the women inside searing into the back of his eye sockets, even as he tried to banish them forever.

Wiping his mouth finally as the worst of his natural reaction subsided, D'artagnan shakily got to his feet and mounted his horse once more, casting his sorrow filled eyes about the burning town with a hard look on his face.

_If it was the last thing he did on this green earth, he would avenge these women. Those men could never go unpunished for this. They had already stabbed- and possibly killed his brother- and now this!? There had been no need! How could they!? WHY!?_

D'artagnans thoughts caved in with the stress of his unanswered cries, his mind becoming dull and blank as he turned his horse numbly away from the scene, eyes flicking instinctively to the trail of prints that lead up the far rise of the valley, its cover of yellow barely shrinking away from the blaze.

Without realizing it, D'artagnan had ridden up and over the ridge and descended back down the other side into a six foot high field of wheat that now stretched out before him.

_The trail was much easier to follow down here_, D'artagnan noticed absently -mind still unhinged by the horrors he'd witnessed, again.

On the bright side, D'artagnans' trail was now cut out into a wide path, the yellow prickly stalks making up the 'walls' either side of him while a few broken strands drooped out into the centre, its 'floor,' the colour of yellow mush as the once standing crops were trodden underfoot and destroyed.

_Despite their obvious lack of moral ground -through their attacks on helpless villagers, it seemed they also had an utter lack of respect for their environment and the crops that grew to feed the men themselves, _D'artagnan pondered- mind still adrift from reality.

_They had _no _idea how long it took for barely to grow, months! _

_And then of course it had to be tended _long _before it could be picked and harvested. All of that work -and what would have made a farmer some decent pay - now crushed and useless._

Both a musketeer and farm boy at heart, D'artagnan was growing ever enraged at the sight of trodden meadows and fields of potential food utterly destroyed in their wake; his inability to catch up to the riders, leaving him no option but to accept their annihilation of nature.

The list just kept on growing and growing as D'artagnan followed, his awareness of his surroundings taking more of a back seat as he poured more fuel onto the fire that was his thoughts.

_How dare they do this to France! They had no right to a life if this is how they treated it! _

_They__'__d had no life as soon as they__'__d extinguished the innocent civilians _D'artagnan corrected.

_No man or woman who went around killing for pleasure should be allowed to live any kind of free life...now he knew how Athos felt about Milady._

_Ever the snake and charmer, looking down her nose at the unsuspecting victim before pulling the trigger -no doubt she got a rush out of her work _he seethed.

_She had betrayed Athos, she had lured him as soon as he had known her and she had betrayed France! _

D'artagnan was beginning to wonder if her villainy had the strength to lead such an army as the one he was following_...he certainly wouldn't put it past her!_

Dismounting once more among the destroyed crops, D'artagnan took a knee and gently felt his fingers around the inside of a hoof print; putting pressure on its mould and finding it soft to the touch.

_Extremely soft...this must have been made mere minutes ago! _D'artagnan realized, rushing to his feet and hopping back onto his horse.

"Yah!" he cried, shaking the reigns and bolting his horse into motion, following his set path with new determination.

It was above the next rise that D'artagnan could finally rest his eyes on what he'd been searching for. _The riders._

The ground trembling, pebbles bouncing around with its force and the dust rising up in their wake, D'artagnan spotted the riders racing across the meadow only a hundred paces ahead, their seemingly urgent ride directed to what appeared to be a small home.

Spurring his horse into a run, D'artagnans eyes narrowed into slits.

_He would get his revenge, and soon._

However, it was half way across this meadow that D'artagnan noticed some movement in the shadows along the far tree line, its cautious but hasty flickers drawing his attention over until he had stopped his mount entirely.

_If this was to be a straggle of the riders, circling round to cut him off, they would be in for a sorry surprise _D'artagnan seethed, nudging his horse in the new direction.

_At least he could take down a few at a time. His goal of putting each of the thirty men six feet under, becoming more and more likely if he took them on three at a time _he thought, a wicked smile replacing itself over his once haunted and detached features.

It was only as D'artagnan drew within distance to make the figures out that his mind and heart did a complete turn about, for the figures were none other than his brothers!

Almost crying tears of joy, D'artagnan continued to speed towards them, an entirely new perspective on life now that he could see they were alive and well enough to move.

"Athos! Aramis! Porthos!" D'artagnan cried, voice thick with emotions as he closed the twenty foot gap, the shocked faces of at least two of the brothers melting into one of frenzied relief and overwhelming happiness.

"D'artagnan!" Aramis greeted happily, his dark thoughts interrupted by the unexpected arrival of their beloved young brother.

_He must have been really self centred to have missed spotting the boy entirely _Athos mused; clapping a friendly hand onto his protégés' shoulder and leaning slightly in his saddle as D'artagnans mount drifted abreast, the two men embracing each other tightly.

"Its been too long" Athos started, eyes brightening anew with hope.

"Seems like an eternity" D'artagnan corrected, smiling at him warmly before his eyes drifted over to Aramis meaning to share the sentimental gaze.

His expression faltered, however, at the sight of his brother Porthos who lay still in Aramis arms; his condition seeming to have worsened since the last time he had laid eyes upon him.

Horrified that Porthos was on deaths door or beyond at this very moment, D'artagnans throat tightened painfully.

"Is he-" D'artagnan couldn't complete his question, feeling that if he uttered the dreaded words, it might make it come true.

"God no" Aramis chipped in, his first words seeming thin with what must have been two days worth of stress.

"But he does need a physician, immediately" Aramis added, hoping to enlighten D'artagnan in regards to the dire mission they now lead, his grim and desperate expression sliding back into place to say what had been left unsaid.

"You wont find one now" D'artagnan reported, knowingly, face growing dark once more as his features mixed into one of conflicted sadness and rage.

"Do tell" Athos pressed, his mount shifting from foot to foot nervously, its ears pricking backwards as it picked up on the unheard, terrible sounds back at the farmhouse.

"The riders you just missed have destroyed everything for the better part of two hours west of here. I've been following them for quite some time. There was never anything left" D'artagnan informed them, his crestfallen posture alluding to something more he had withheld.

Athos and Aramis exchanged a worried look at this news and quickly took to silence as they sought for a new means of aid.

It was during his search for answers that Athos' mind suddenly brought itself back to Miriam.

_If the village in the valley had been destroyed as D__'__artagnan was sure it had, then her father must be..._

"Damn it all" Athos ground out in frustration, punching the horn of his saddle, his horse whining in surprise.

"What is it?" Aramis asked, broken from his thoughts, D'artagnan looking up expectantly.

Athos sighed as he settled on his decision. _They were not going to like this._

Sighing lightly, Athos looked to his brothers and tried to held their gaze with his usual air of confidence.

"You must venture ahead without me. Set out for Paris but do not hesitate to find aid at an establishment, should you see one. I must head back" Athos informed, jaw locked, brows knitted with determination.

His brothers expression were the epitome of surprise and anger.

"WHAT! Athos, have you lost your mind!? We've been over this!" Aramis scolded, shaking his head as his eyes bulged in disbelief.

"That's suicide" D'artagnan commented, voice barely a whisper, looking at his older brother with concern.

_There had been enough loss for one day, he wouldn__'__t allow any more. He couldn__'__t._

"I am only seeking to _rescue _Miriam from the premises, not fight an entire army" Athos reasoned, eyes only meeting Aramis' while D'artagnan looked on in confusion over the secret woman.

"No, it's too dangerous" Aramis retorted, _he could not allow this. He was sure Athos would not allow it either had their roles been reversed._

"So you would rather let them _die__"_Athos challenged coldly, the extent of his agony and conflicting emotions suddenly bursting through his stoic manner and stunning his friend.

As he waited out the silence that befell the four, Athos' desperate mind drew back to Miriam.

_He could not let her die now...he could not let her die in the first place, Athos reasoned, but now... there was just something between them...something more. It would pain him greatly if he were to lose her...probably more than she knew._

D'artagnan looked conflicted at Athos' sensible reasoning torn between losing yet another peaceful citizen and risking the life of yet another brother.

_But Athos seemed so sure...he looked desperate, like he needed this. Could he find it in himself to allow his brother to return? But what if he didn__'__t come back? Athos was their responsibility just as much as they were his._

All for one and one for all.

D'artagnan cringed.

Aramis sighed, _he__'__d never had the strength to outmatch his dear brother, in mind, sword or passion- no matter that he dealt more with the ladies. _

_Athos, he knew, would follow through on his word and intentions to the very end. Nothing would persuade him when his mind was set, all they could do was support him, as only a family should._

"Fine -but that is all, Athos. Do not attempt anything foolish" Aramis commanded eyeing his brother warily and gripping his offered hand.

_Please come back alive, if not, then for our sake. Please. _Aramis begged silently.

"I never do" Athos replied, a hint of smugness accompanying his light smirk before his humour faded completely -so he may give his brothers one last reassuring nod.

Turning his mount quickly, his face turning deadly serious, Athos raced back for Miriam, his brothers letting him go, their hearts with him.

Athos leant into his mount as he rode, keeping low to help quicken his hasty return, hoping to catch a glimpse of the farm among the tall corn stalks.

At one point he thought he saw smoke but brushed it off, _no time for thoughts, just work on getting there _he urged.

Athos just hoped she was still alive.

**Seems I****'****m getting into this cliff hanger thing ;) Fun for me, maybe not so much for you ;)**

**Anyways, please let me know what you thought/think is going happen! Until next time!**


	13. Aéropostale

**THANK YOU soooo much for the support, just thought id let you guys know that its thanks to you that we have surpassed my longest story yet -and are still going strong. 56+ pages people, be proud!**

**So here****'****s the next chapter!**

FLASHBACK -2 hours ago

It was just turning noon back at the garrison; a time that usually lifted the hearts of the musketeers for they knew food and drink would offer a relieving break in their day.

However, this particular afternoon offered no such comforts as the few men idly lounged about the courtyard or tended to their horses in silence, their minds ensnared by the thoughts of what was happening to their four closest brothers.

They had been gone for two days straight and thus far, no returning search parties had come back with any answers of their whereabouts. They had gotten no closer to finding out if their brothers were dead or alive and it left them restless, high tempered and stressed out.

Multiply these emotions by four and one might understand how it felt to have the displeasure of Trevilles company -his ever sour mood tainted by the worry over his men, the lack of answers he was getting over their safety tempting him to go looking -if only to satisfy his mind that someone was doing their job properly.

_The outlook was a grim one. _

They all knew the odds of their brothers returning were diminishing rapidly with each hour they were left alone out there.

_He had heard of the ambush within hours of it having occurred but at that point in time he had remained hopeful enough that his men had escaped. It would seem his assumptions had been too hasty. He dreaded what their absence could mean, but he could not avoid the facts._

_Dead or dying. That__'__s what it came down to now._

_His only shred of confidence had hung on the thought that the men had a magnificent medic among them; one who had proved his trade and magnificent skills time and again during missions to save the lives of his brothers._

_But it would seem this time it had not been enough._

Trevilles' worrisome pacing around his quarters was suddenly interrupted by a soft knock at the door.

Chest tightening with the idea of what this sad news may do to his scarred mind caused him to pause for a moment.

_This would be the last time he could think of his men alive. They may be struggling tooth and nail out there but at least that would mean they weren't sprawled dead in a ditch. This news could shatter that final hope and bring the world down around him._

Puffing out his chest and rolling his shoulders to try and boost his confidence, Treville strode over to the door and swung it open, the young boy on the receiving end seeming quite nervous in his presence, eyes darting everywhere but the superior mans' eyes.

As was true for all young messengers, the boy looked a mess. His 'uniform' consisted of a tattered rag, his greasy tufts of hair suggesting that he hadn't bathed in at last a month and the dark circles hanging under his much too young eyes telling of many sleepless nights scouring for food.

Treville shook his head sadly, sighing as he ushered the boy into his quarters by the shoulders, making him take a seat as he walked back out onto the balcony and called for Serge to bring up some bread, cheese and wine.

Closing the door softly -so as not to alarm the frightened boy- Treville cautiously stepped back over to his desk and sat in the chair across from the boy, noting how he still would not meet his eyes.

He was suddenly hit with a similar memory of Porthos' first day at the garrison, the man having very little self esteem thanks to his poor upbringing and the constant judgement he received for his skin tone leaving the man looking weary, his eyes always darting around looking for the threats.

It had taken months to knock the habit from his man, but slowly with the aid of his new brothers in arms; in particular Athos and Aramis, his esteem had begun to rise and his true hearty soul had begun to emerge past the evasive, trapped animal he appeared to be.

_So very long ago. Now who knew if he was even with them..._

The boy coughed nervously, arms hugging at his sides as Serge brought in the items he had requested, leaving them on the desk with a small nod as he eyed the boy knowingly.

_This had not been the first time Treville had taken in the needy. _

His job demanded loyalty, strength, honour and understanding but it was the man alone who took it upon himself to offer further kindness, shelter, guidance and nourishment; his skills as a fighter rivalling that of his generosity and earning him great respect from the musketeers -as they recalled a time they had been at his mercy too.

The boy eyed the food hungrily.

_It was just within reach, he could grab it and run. No one would catch him, he was small and quick, it was how he got this job. He could just distract the old man and take the tray, he didn't think he would care enough to chase him through the whole of Paris for a loaf of bread and some cheese._

The boy only twitched as the thought rumbled around in his tired mind, feeling the air pressing down around his small shoulders as he felt the mans gaze on his head.

" Please, eat" Treville offered, hand out towards the food.

That was all it took. Surprise barely registering, the boy did not waste a second, pouncing on the food and stuffing it into his mouth before anyone could take away the prize. He never knew when he would be eating next.

Treville smiled sadly and took a moment to allow the boy to eat. However, time was of the essence and so after a minute or so, Treville addressed the boy again, more seriously this time.

"You have a message for me?" he asked, the boys wide eyes had been locked onto his while he stuffed his mouth.

_No doubt monitoring me so he can escape with the food should I remove it for some reason _he surmised, sadly.

"Uhm mph, yea-" the boy replied around a mouth filled with food.

Taking a second to swallow hard, the boy looked away from Trevilles' soft gaze and picked at the bread nervously.

"I received a note by pigeon" the boy started, drawing in Trevilles' curiosity, causing the man to lean forward expectantly, elbows on the desk, hand meeting over his moustache as he considered the words carefully and prepared himself for the worst.

A little frightened at the new looming position, the boy shuffled back in his seat, eyes still downcast throughout the awkward silence.

"Go on" Treville probed gently.

_He needed information. These could be the answers he had been searching for._

"It arrived early this mornin'. I 'ad a woman read it out to me...she said it was for the musketeers capt'n...so I brunged it here" he finished, sliding a hand into his jacket and pulling out a small scroll of parchment.

Treville tried not to leap over the desk and snatch it from the boys hand. _His progress would be for naught if he scared him off now... Besides, he had manners and the boy needed support._

Waiting the few long seconds for the boy to hand it over shakily seemed like a lifetimes worth, but eventually, it reached his open palm.

Now able to throw caution to the wind, Treville quickly pried apart the stamp and rolled it open, eyes hungrily taking in the familiar neat writing scrawled inside.

His heart soared upon reading Athos' words:

_-Treville_

_As I suspect you may already know, my men and I were ambushed on the trail back to Paris; though rest assured, the governor will be arriving shortly with D__'__artagnan at his side -if he has not already. _

_I believe my assumptions would prove correct that there were at least fifty armed assailants present -of whom unfortunately overpowered our efforts. I deeply regret to inform you that Porthos was wounded on sight -but I am happy to note, we managed to find sanctuary at a farm. A most generous young woman took pity on our plight and has presently restored our brother his health._

_We now rest perhaps a few dozen miles east of the ambush and will return to you as soon as Porthos is able to ride. I offer you my apologies as to the heartache this news may bring you but rest assured, your men are safe._

_-Athos_

_So that__'__s where D__'__artagnan had rushed off to! Finally, he had his answers!_

Boundless energy now bottled up inside, Treville shot to his feet and let out a bellow of a laugh, stopping quickly as the boy seemed to take fear.

Schooling his features, slightly embarrassed, Treville fingered through his pockets until he found what he was looking for. A sack of coins.

He tossed it to the boy what caught it easily; surprise and awe now crossing his youthful features as he looked up at the new man in a new light.

"Consider this payment your introductory fee as the musketeers' new messenger. I will personally see to it that you are properly fed, clothed and bathed from here on out -lest you have any quarrels with your position?" Treville finished.

Completely at a loss for words the boy opened and closed his mouth a few times before shutting it completely and shaking his head madly, _No_.

"Good. Now if you would be so kind as to wait by Serge for the time being while I attend to this matter -Thank you dearly for this note" Treville added, rubbing the boys head fondly before ushering his numb body out of the door.

"-Serge is our cook" Treville added for the boys benefit, "He will no doubt be waiting for you down in the mess hall."

The boy nodded once, a smile gracing his features for the first time as he darted happily down the stairs past his confused men to the mess hall.

The musketeers took a moment to spy their captain on the balcony, Trevilles' joyful expression alerting them to the possibility of some positive findings on their brothers.

"I have just received a note from Athos-" Treville addressed the expectant courtyard.

"They are safe" he boomed triumphantly, his stiff shoulders relaxing finally as the words sunk in.

_Thank god _he whispered.

The courtyard erupted into merry cheers and hugs, the men sighing and laughing nervously with relief as they were cut loose from their suspended predicament.

"However, be that as it may, I want to organize a new party to meet up with our men. They are still out there with the assailants -and Porthos was wounded. We _must _protect them" Treville ordered -his men now standing to attention as they took in the new mission.

With a final nod of approval his men scrambled to the stables, their eagerness to reunite with their kin, admirable.

_Gods speed _Trevilles' thoughts echoed, watching with a grin from his place on the balcony as they rushed out under the archway, knowing the next time they should return with their missing brothers in tow.

**I had to chop this one here, but at least its not so much on a cliff hanger as the last few! I hope you enjoyed seeing Treville in all his glory, I just love showing the father presence that man holds. Anyways, let me know what you thought! I may update again today if I get my textbook readings done! Until next time!**


	14. Relief

**Thanks for the reviews/follows! 9 pages this time, aren't you special! ;) Well here****'****s another one of my 2am updates, where does the time go!? lol**

**Anyways, Enjoy! **

It had taken longer than Aramis had liked, two hours through the brush without any signs of life while Porthos lay dying in his arms.

_Why must fate be so cruel? Was there a purpose to all this suffering? Was Porthos meant to get stabbed just so Athos could meet Miriam? And what did their chance meeting gain? Was it even worth the risk?_

Aramis had noticed Athos acting strangely towards Miriam at the farm, his usually stoic and professional manner slipping to allow a more intimate, friendly side of his persona.

_Athos was not an easily trusting man who would just willingly share such personal information about his past. It had taken _months _just for him to open up to Porthos and himself -and even then he only revealed an inkling!_

_Yet as he had pretended to sleep, he had heard Athos telling the woman of his darkest, deepest woes, mentioning a brother slain, a wifes death. He may not have indulged her in the how or the why of it, but you didn__'__t just tell any old person that half of your kin was dead of unnatural, gruesome causes._

_No, Miriam had been someone special. So special it seemed, that Athos would risk it all just to rescue her against the towering odds that awaited him._

Aramis shook his head, he only hoped that this time Athos' efforts weren't in vain.

_He couldn__'__t watch his already struggling brother tear himself apart all over again over Miriam - that is, if they should blossom into something more after this hellish tale was over._

Aramis was snapped back to his surroundings as Porthos shivered violently against him and he _almost _lost his grip on the man.

"Hold still, Porthos" he pleaded with a whisper, "We're almost there."

And with that lie just passing his lips, D'artagnan suddenly called out from his position up ahead.

"I think I see a home over yonder!" he called, his tone beyond relieved at their lucky find and beaming at Aramis who approached slowly, expression one of skepticism. Almost as if he thought this were some cruel trick.

Peering out through the break in the foliage that continued to line the field, Aramis could just make out across the hilly planes, a small brown house that was nestled in between the sloping fields, a small dirt track meeting its doors and trailing off towards a sunset.

_It would have been beautiful. But not today _Aramis thought darkly, nudging his horse forwards quickly so they could search for a larger break in the bush -so that they may pass their horses through.

_It was true, they had not been looking for a home, despite what Athos had said. What they _needed _was a physician -and desperately. _

_But there were no physicians to be found thus far and they were still no closer to Paris than they had been an hour ago. Their true home was just _too _far a stretch for their comrade as Porthos__ was proving, his__ breathing became ever shallower and his skin ever paler._

_They couldn__'__t afford to lose him on the way back, they _must _stop here for now._

It took almost no time at all to find a way through the hedges, their new found freedom allowing them the speed they needed to race towards the new shelter.

_Hopefully this would not be like last time _Aramispleaded internally. _They had _found _a shelter, had _found _their brother medical aid, _found _him to be recovering soundly overnight. _

_And it had all turned out to be broken promises and deadly lies._

Looking over to the innocent D'artagnan, Aramis caught a smile on the boys' hopeful face while they rode; _no doubt thinking a good outcome lay ahead for them here. _

Aramis would allow him that peace of mind at least, _no good dragging him down._

_The fields really did seem greener on the other side, _D'artagnan mused, taking in the un-trodden, fire free fields and home.

_Finally a place that lay untouched by the horrors of those men, a place they could rest and call home -if not for a day- so Porthos may find the medical aid he desperately needed._

As they neared the lodge, Aramis scrutinized the homely layout, a cold and serious look to his face as he searched for any signs of lurking bodies behind its corners or leaning out of the upper windows.

_He__'__d had enough of surprises._

As they drew to a stop an elderly woman burst from the main door, pitchfork in hand, raising it menacingly.

_Must they always be greeted by violence!? Did they look so desperate that they looked like outlaws? What was wrong with these country folk!? _

Aramis gripped onto Porthos tighter, eyes narrowing at the new threat, patience thin enough as it was already. _This woman better not try anything foolish_.

Sensing 'unfounded' dark vibes coming off of Aramis, D'artagnan quickly took control of the situation and promptly dismounted; arms raised in 'surrender' as walked cautiously over to her.

"State your business" she growled, lowering her pitchfork from above her head to greet D'artagnans face instead.

"Please, you misunderstand, madam, we are the kings' musketeers" he soothed, "-we were attacked by men, perhaps a day ago now, and our friend is suffering a bad fever from the wounds he received... We have been seeking tirelessly for medical aid" he explained, weary of the sharp prongs inches from his nose but trying to remain his ground.

D'artagnan didn't want to seem guilty by backing off and he certainly didn't want to give her a reason to put holes in him.

She inspected the three men for a moment, her eyes moving from the young mans' sincere gaze to rest on the injured man -his dead like state looking credible enough to back up the mans' claims- before finally sliding over to the rider and debating whether his cold glare should be determined as a threat or not.

Lowering her pitchfork after a minute, the woman shook her head, "I'm _so _sorry!" she whined, now looking slightly embarrassed, "It's just that there's been so many raids around here, I thought you were those _men_."

The brothers eyes grew cold with hatred and understanding, "No trouble, madam, you have every right to protect yourself out here" Aramis replied somewhat stiffly.

_What was eating him? _D'artagnan pondered briefly, casting a small glance over to Aramis before bringing his attention back to the woman once more and boldly reaching out to place a confident hand on her shoulder.

"I am sorry to ask this of you, but may we stay the night in your humble abode? -Even if you cannot help our friend, he _needs _some place to rest" D'artagnan pleaded, shooting a worried glance to said brother.

The old woman brought herself back to her senses, a horrified look on her face, "Dear me! My manners have escaped me! Please, come in at once!" she gestured wildly to the door and hurried off to its entrance.

D'artagnan quickly followed her on foot, tying the reigns of his horse onto a post that lay out front, then heading over to help Aramis lower Porthos from his lofty position, noting how both brothers were now covered in blood.

_It was an unnerving sight. _

Once dismounted, the two men hastily pulled Porthos up between him, sharing the weight of his limp body and pulling him inside the home, placing their feet carefully so as not to jostle the injured man too much.

Aramis shivered as the familiar motions left a cold, sickly feeling deep in his stomach.

_What if this became Porthos__'__ deathbed? His final resting place?_

His body froze on the spot at that thought as he tried not to gag, his inattention to their predicament jarring D'artagnan to a stop and drawing a pained wheeze from Porthos.

Peering over Porthos' head, D'artagnan questioned his brothers sudden motionless, he appeared quite pale and his brow was beaded with sweat.

_Was he ill too?! Had he been keeping something from him! _D'artagnan dearly hoped not.

"Aramis? Are you okay?"

" 'm fine" Aramis grunted, pressing the back of his hand to his mouth and closing his eyes tightly.

A tense second or two passed in silence as Aramis seemed to compose himself again, resting a hand against the wall and looking over to D'artagnan.

"Sorry" was all he whispered, his eyes seemed troubled but D'artagnan didn't bother asking.

_They were all going through a rough time lately, might as well work on fixing it rather than adding to it._

"Are you two still following?" the old lady called from the stair case, having left them to trail behind her through the small but cozy establishment.

A fire lay in the centre of the hearth, glowing lightly, an unoccupied drawing room off to the left and small portraits of family hanging about.

_There hadn__'__t really been much time to take in the detail of the home... however, there were no threats and so that's all that really mattered,_ Aramis concluded with a slight nod, continuing to pull Porthos up the stairs awkwardly.

Once they reached the second landing, they followed her down a short hall, a window at one end and two doors on the left.

She entered the one at the end by the window and kept the door open so they may shuffle past inside, nodding their thanks as they moved into the room and depositing Porthos' onto a waiting, linen bed.

"Now you just stay here while I fetch my husband, he should be around here some place...he used to be a veterinarian for the horses in town, you know. He _could _be of some assistance here" she stated with a warm smile, doing her best to comfort the drained looking men waiting patiently at their friends bedside.

They forced out a smile and nodded their thanks again as they turned to watch her leave and begin to descend the stairs, calling out for a man by the name of Arthur as she went.

"What if we're too late?" Aramis questioned abruptly, slowly taking a seat on the bed by Porthos and placing a gentle hand against his much too slowly rising breast.

D'artagnans' brows grew heavy with concern as the hopeless question caught him off guard.

_He__'__d never really had the misfortune of witnessing this side of Aramis. He knew of the darkness in his brothers; Athos__'__ lost family, Porthos__'__ criminal hardships, Aramis__'__ lost battle at Savoy... but it was usually Athos he saw wallowing in guilt and sorrow, not his fun loving, mischievous brothers._

"Aramis, brother-" D'artagnan begged, placing a steady hand on his trembling shoulder, "-have faith... We have found sanctuary, we have a shelter above our heads, a place to stop and recover and maybe even a doctor to help Porthos" he finished optimistically, trying to make his friend see the bright side to life.

Aramis let out a laugh as D'artagnan talked about faith, tears forming in his eyes and threatening to fall.

_What had faith ever done for him? Given him hope in a time of despair, perhaps, there was that. _

_But after dealing with despair for so long, one began to grow wise and stop fooling themselves. He was only making the inevitable outcome harder on himself. _

_Faith was merely false hope, lies that took away the pain -if only for so long. _

Before he could drag D'artagnan into his world of misery, a mans voice called out within the house from below, footsteps heading to the staircase. _Arthur_.

"I'm coming! Don't worry! I'm on my way!" Arthur yelled up, hoping to comfort the musketeers his wife had told him about.

_Such brave souls should not have to suffer at the mercy of some measly infection trying to take their friend from them, he would not allow it!_

Bursting into the room, Arthur was revealed to be an old man of about sixty years, his scrawny small frame making his head seem a little out of proportion, whisps of white hair sticking up oddly either side of his wide blue eyes that gleamed with concern.

Much like the image of any old man, he wore a pair of circular bifocals that lay on the tip of his small nose, beneath which, his mouth was lined with wrinkles, all of which disappeared inwards, no teeth to hold the skin firm.

He was the cutest old man D'artagnan had ever seen -not that he would ever admit that.

He reminded him of what little he could remember of his grandfather, also a man who could barely fit into his clothes that had always seemed three sized too big.

The genuine concern pouring off the vet was enough for Aramis to know they had found a good hearted man, his mind now distracted from its darker thoughts as he mentally questioned if the mans skills could live up to his kind intentions.

After peeling back the bandages and inspecting the wound, Arthur sent his wife off for some medical tools.

_He had seen infections many a time before, both on animals and his two grown sons who had long since grown up and moved on from here. He could fix this._

Arthur smiled up at the mans friends, their worried looks meeting his as they noticed eyes on them. "Don't you worry boys, I can help your friend here, no problem. After this treatment -and a healthy dose of rest, he should be up and around within days!"

His high spirits seemed to touch the men deeply, their tense frames relaxing somewhat as they looked back down to their friend with new hope. Arthur thought he saw tears in their eyes but didn't question them on it.

_He had a job to do._

**~o0o~**

It was not long before Arthur took to his feet and declared his job done; the minor task of emptying the wound of any fluids, puss or dirt that the bandages had held in and then rinsing and sterilizing the wound itself, being the full extent of his purpose here.

Aramis shook himself from his stupor and clumsily pulled himself from the idle chair that sat by the window at the head of the bed, in which he had patiently waited.

"Are you sure?" he ventured, eyeing Porthos' new bandages, not quite believing that his friend was now safe from the clutches of death. _He still looked much too pale._

"No offence, monsieur, but just because I'm an old man doesn't mean I don't know my medicine" he joked softly, reaching a wrinkled old hand up to Aramis shoulder and patted it gently.

Aramis smiled lightly, still not quite believing this meagre work would help Porthos through the night. He didn't want to get his hopes up.

D'artagnan on the other hand was showing signs of obvious relief, his exhausted manner but faint smile for their success warming even Aramis' cold body.

Only time would tell if Porthos would pull through. And so they waited, again.

Slowly but surely, just as Arthur had promised, some colour began to return to Porthos' skin, the sweat on his forehead reducing drastically and his spastic shivers dying down to a nervous twitch once in a while.

Aramis was beyond the raw feeling of joy at the sight of this, but his aching bones and tired body meant there would be no prancing around the celebrate at this late hour, therefore he shuffled his chair closer to the bed and allowed himself to doze much like D'artagnan was beginning to do.

"To small victories" Aramis murmured triumphantly, the small smile on his face sticking to him like tar on feathers. Inseparable, just like his brothers.

D'artagnan was about to repeat his brothers sentiments exactly when Porthos stirred from his sleep, eyes slitting open and peering about blearily.

The brothers immediately straightened in their chairs and leant forwards over their brother, beaming down at him.

"How you doing pot roast?" Aramis jested lightly when Porthos looked over, squinting up at his mischievous brothers face, the happiest he'd seen him in a _long _time.

"It's pronounced port hole" D'artagnan corrected good naturedly, drawing an even brighter smile from Aramis and the beginnings of a playful frown from Porthos who it seemed had enough wits about him to finally catch up with their teasing banter.

"Wrong. It's pronounced 'knuckle sandwich'" Porthos threatened fondly, shuffling upwards in his sheets and wincing slightly at the throbbing pain in his back but managing to push it aside as he shared a hearty laugh with his brothers.

A moment of heart felt sorrows and overwhelmed relief soon replaced their banter, tears shining in each mans eyes as their expressions alone told their words for them.

"Good to have you back" Aramis whispered with a sniff, D'artagnan remaining silent as his throat clammed up.

Porthos smiled lightly, still feeling the effects of what felt like a stampede.

"You gonna fill me in?" Porthos asked after a moment, moving on from their tear jerking silence, now eager for his deeply concerning questions to be answered.

There was such a large hole in his memories. _A battle, a night ride, a home, a woman, another field, another home...if they kept riding like this they__'__d end up in Spain._

"Gladly" Aramis joked, cracking his knuckles playfully causing D'artagnan to laugh.

Porthos rolled his eyes in good humour, grinning lightly.

_It was heart warming how normal everything seemed when his brothers were reunited...actually, on second thought, where was Athos?!_

Aramis and D'artagnan quickly obliged their healing brother, trying their best to die down the awful details so he wouldn't be as tempted to rocket out of his sick bed.

Porthos was still alarmed and more than a little annoyed to hear that they had let Athos go back to the farmhouse alone but Aramis offered him comfort on that front too.

"Athos is smarter than all of us, Porthos, he will be fine" he soothed, resting a hand on the mans shoulder, if not to keep him in place then to comfort him.

Porthos didn't look fully convinced at the sentiment, _brains were one thing but thirty armed men were another. You could hardly outwit a speeding musket ball._

D'artagnan glanced over his brothers nervously. Now that they'd had the pleasure of reuniting and filling each other in, there was nothing left but the hard truth.

Aramis smiled slightly, trying to project an air of confidence that he wasn't feeling, leading it to falter until it failed completely.

The three brothers sat in grim silence while Aramis reached another prayer to the heavens, hoping Athos was safe.

**Hope that wasn****'****t too long! This story is really about to get heated up in the next few chapters, so hold onto your everythings****'****, you should be in for a wild ride! ;)**


	15. New Plans

**So, sorry for the slow update... I had the time to edit/post but a rule of thumb of mine prevented me from doing so. If I****'****m ever super stressed, intoxicated or so tired I cant think straight, I usually don****'****t touch my stories as it would show in my writing and wouldn****'****t be worth posting. University is giving me a lot of work lately so I do my writing even later- I am an insomniac after all ;) But that means I get suuuuper headaches sometimes, in this case, so I will wait for them to pass so I can think logically.**

**I appreciate your patience when this happens and i****'****m aware of all the lovely reviews and follows I get while I'm away from this story, so thank you all so much! I will update when I can, but I hope you understand that if I'm gone for a few days, I have a reason! But I will always update within the week!**

**Enjoy!**

It hadn't taken long to search the home.

After he had backhanded and effectively silenced the snivelling wench in the doorway, Porter and his men had quickly entered the premises to look for musketeers.

As they had invaded the first floor of the home, Porter had gone straight to the kitchen.

_There was always people in the kitchen _he reasoned.

And he had been right.

There had been a second, old woman waiting for him behind the door of a pantry, shovel in hand prepared to do god knows what.

But he had quickly side stepped her swing, grabbed her by the hair and thrown her to the floor.

_It was almost too easy, _he observed with a lazy grin on his face.

Looking like she had been about to get up in a frenzy Porter put a boot on her neck and applied pressure.

_No more nagging for you _he decided, stifling a snicker at his humorous internal monologue.

She had squirmed for a minute or so, but eventually her hands had loosened around his ankle and dropped limply to the floor either side of her blue face.

Removing his boot, Porter had stood over her small frame, not an ounce of guilt on his soul.

_Women were wretched, nasty creatures made for deceiving and breaking mens__'__ hearts. They had started wars, taken lives and brought evil into the world. _

He had long since ran out of sympathy for them.

_They were beneath him anyway, why should _he _care?_

Just to make sure she wasn't playing any little mind tricks on him, he had raised slowly upholstered his pistol, aimed and fired, putting a tiny hole through her bony little head.

_There, no more problems, _he grinned.

An agonized scream had rang through the house behind him as he'd fired -followed by the sounds of boots scuffling against the floor, nails dragging along the walls until _finally _there was a 'thwack' noise of a fist meeting flesh -restoring the men to their blissful silence once more.

Porter sighed with exasperation, shaking his head with disdain. _When would people learn not to mess him around?_

Not wanting to waste any more precious time on these pathetic people, Porter took to searching the house with his men; stopping once in a while to secure a promising trinket or two before moving onto the next room.

_It was strange how their were mens__'__ valuables and clothing and yet no men _Porter pondered curiously as he inspected a pocket watch on a drawer downstairs.

_Oh well, their loss...there will be nothing left for them now_ he smiled menacingly at the accurate thought.

After searching both the farm and home from top to bottom, inch by inch, the only suspicious thing to be found had been the freshly made guests bed on the second floor landing' accompanied by a strange smell that clung to the room -as if there had been visitors.

Shaking his head with a mixture of disappointment and frustration, Porter sauntered back down the stairs, stepping over the corpse of the old nag over to the young, weeping woman who lay sprawled out against the door frame; a glazed look in her eyes.

Kneeling slowly, Porter clamped a strong hand onto her jaw and wrenched it upwards so her rolling eyes may look in his direction.

"Who were the guests that stayed here not long ago?" Porter barked, roughly shaking her head to try and get her to concentrate.

New tears began to stem from her eyes, her face contorting in pain as he aggravated her head wound, still utterly confused and more than a little traumatized.

"Tell me!" Porter screamed into her face, his men shrinking back from the scene, not wanting to attract his rage.

The woman merely whimpered louder, tears now flowing freely as her face crumpled and she began to sob, her frame wracked anew as she wailed for her mother, arms reaching out in a futile effort to reach the corpse across the room.

Pushing her chin away roughly, Porter rose to his feet and spat on dress, lip curled in frustration, eyes forming into slits.

"Any last words?" he mocked in a gentlemanly offer, locking eyes with her dazed green ones.

An ounce of recognition seemed to sparkle in them for a moment and she stared up at him defiantly, hatred pouring from her thick glare in waves.

Porter shook his head again, un-amused.

"What a waste of beauty...it is such a pity you wont be joining us madam" he jested, perversely taking in her exquisite form and almost angelic features one last time before swiftly, turning on his heel and stalking out of the damned home.

Nodding to his men who stood by outside, Porter headed over to his horse while they quickly lit their fuel soaked torches and pitched them towards the thatch roof of the home, a few others striding over to the barn so they may do the same.

_If she would not tell him what he wanted to know then she would burn in hell -and wait there for her __'__secret friends__'__ to join her. He would find them eventually. And when he did, they would die slow, agonizing deaths. _

_They had cost him valuable time and effort -but more importantly- made him look like a fool in front of his men. And that was a sign of weakness he could _not _allow._

Walking over to his mount, Porter placed a foot into the spur and clambered up onto his saddle; his army of men drawing their own horses closer to his own into somewhat of a semicircle so they could hear the new set of orders he would undoubtedly bestow on them.

Glancing across at the meadows that surrounded them, Porter briefly thought he spotted the dark form of a distant rider heading towards them but in the blink of an eye, they were gone.

Frustration flaring up at the stress induced visions, Porter took some comfort in the softly crackling noises behind him, provided by the rising flames, causing a smirk to take to his lips.

_Oh how he did love a good bonfire!_

Looking to his men, Porter coughed once to boost his confidence and then began to bark out his orders.

"We shall split up into groups" he decreed, eyeing each man in turn with a hard stare.

"-by doing so, we will be able to cover _more _ground at a _faster _pace. We WILL unearth these cowardly men from their hiding places and you WILL bring them to me" he ordered, his powerful glares leaving no room for questions -or failures.

"You may shoot on sight" Porter added, "-but I want them _alive_" he stressed, staring at his men with such an intense, unblinking stare that they began to feel they may turn to ash on the spot.

Receiving hasty nods of acceptance from the men, Porter continued with his plans.

"I want fifteen men to backtrack from our current position...if the scum have managed to avoid our notice since our arriving here, then they may have tried to double back... So I want you to check every farm, house, lodge and inn -burnt or standing" he instructed.

Turning to the next group of men, he noted how the crackling behind him was beginning to intensify, the smells of smoke drifting thickly into the air.

Porter merely continued his nonchalant attitude as if there were no occupants burning alive behind him.

"I want you three men-" he motioned, "to remain guard here for another hour longer -just in case the man of this house should decide to come back and report our 'work' to the authorities" he stated, the three he had chosen seeming happy about not having to ride anywhere.

"We don't want nor do we _need _any more involvement from the musketeer vermin" he added with distaste; taking a moment to spit on the ground -disgusted at having to even utter their names.

"The remainder of the men -that means you ten" he motioned towards the middle section of abled bodies, "-may ride out ahead of here to the lands we have not yet roamed to continue the search" he instructed.

"Oh, and you two will be accompanying me" Porter finally addressed the two toughest looking men of the bunch.

_He could afford to lose a man or two out on the field but he was hardly going to risk his own neck scouring the wooded area off to their far right. _

_No, he would need help if he were to stumble across the four musketeers. Though he was undoubtedly an excellent swordsman and an unbeatable fighter, if he could have men take them down first so that he may have the pleasure of executing them, then why tire himself out?_

"I expect to see you all back here within two days -hopefully with our prizes" Porter finished, beginning to turn away now that he was done.

His men nodded their approval of his 'witty plan' and set out immediately, hoping to be the first to find their targets so they may gain some manner of an award from the captain.

As Porter rode for the tree line he felt his frustration rising like those of the flames.

_These musketeers were a royal pain in his ass, they still had the governor -and more importantly, the piece of parchment to go with him. _

_Strange how only a few written words could be so powerful._

_Never mind, he would get it back one way or another. They should have never challenged him. At least he could enjoy watching them pay dearly for their mistakes, that should be well worth the wait._

**I cut this one short, sorry! Athos is next guys! I know you****'****ve been waiting for him but you****'****ll have to wait just a little longer! I have the whole day off tomorrow so I should be able to do a lot of updating! Thanks again!**


	16. Found

**Here****'****s the much awaited Athos chapter****…very looong and packed with turmoil…so ****you may like/hate this****…****and you'll find out why when you read it but I still hope you like it regardless. **

**I **_**highly **_**recommend readers listen to: Time by Hans Zimmer, full blast, while reading this -as I did- to get the aw -full effect ;)**

**Enjoy!?****…**

It was taking too long to get back to the farm and although only fifteen minutes had passed by on the meadows, to Athos, it was fifteen minutes too many.

_It only took a second for life to be swept from this earth, _he would know.

In the blink of an eye his brother of twenty years, had been taken from this world.

His brother whom he'd had the privilege of being old enough to witness being brought into the world. Whom he'd spent every waking hour with. Whom he took pride in when he had helped him to toddle around, when he'd helped him do up the buttons on his petticoat when he'd fumbled with small fingers, whom he'd taught with his father how to read, how to play the piano, how to ride a horse, how to use a sword.

The boy whom he'd passed down his clothes to when they had grown to small for him and their father had not yet bought them the fancy new ones from town.

The boy whom had soon become a man who Athos could maturely joke with and share advice over girls and soon women.

The man who'd loved him so dearly that he'd stood by his back loyally and saved him from many a brawl in a tavern when he'd been too drunk to care -and watched his back when he'd refused to back down from those late night fights.

The man who'd restored him his wits if life became too much and gave him a reason to be happy when the world seemed cruel.

_Thomas, his only brother, was gone. It had taken but a moment. And now he was gone forever._

Years later and he still could not forget. He was sure he never would. And after Miladys' betrayal and involvement in his death, Athos' comfort and trust in women had been extinguished forever too -or so he'd thought.

But now that he had _finally _felt the tenderness of love enter his heart again, after so long, it was being stripped from his life.

The woman in question was Miriam; an innocent, funny, kind, loving, generous woman -a woman whom he'd had the audacity and selfishness to leave, defenceless, against an army of assailants -and without a word of caution to allow her an escape.

Athos felt tears sting his eyes as his mind tormented him with images of the loved ones he had lost, preparing him no doubt for what he was to find ahead.

He bent lower over his horse, racing through the thick fields, standing high in his stirrups once in a while in an attempt to see further ahead.

The foliage that outlined the boundaries of each field had been beautiful to his eyes once, their blossoms a sign of peace and hope for Porthos, a symbol of love for Miriam -unlike the dreaded forget me nots.

But now, they served as cruel cover that he could not see past.

It took yet another five minutes for him to reach the outlying fields that surrounded her home; the horrific sight ahead assaulting his eyes, freezing the breath in his chest and stopping his heart from beating.

Her house was aflame, the barn too.

_He had been too late, again._

Tears flowed freely down his cheeks as he nudged his horse forwards into a half hearted canter, his heart breaking as he kept his eyes locked onto the black smoke rising from the depth of the blackened windows, through which they had once spotted their light of salvation.

Now a much different flame was burning within, this one of loss, hope and despair.

Athos continued forward, his entire body numb, mouth thick, eyes hot, chest heaving as it tried to refuse the air it needed.

_It looked just like his old home now. The once grand estate he had shared with his loving wife__…__ only to have her taint it with the cold blooded murder of his loving, younger brother and then, despite his efforts, return back from the dead to burn it down herself -with him inside._

_That was what awaited him here again now, pain and suffering._

As he reached within twenty feet of the burning home, Athos spied three men sitting in the grass, facing away from him.

_They had done this _he seethed, without a second thought to reason.

Athos saw red, his sudden chance for retribution stirring up a mad beast from somewhere deep within and before he knew it, he was off his horse, pistol and sword drawn, seeming to hover through the thick grass behind them as loomed forwards without a sound.

Eyes aflame like the home before him, Athos reached the first man and drove his sword downward, forcing the steel through the back of his chest and piercing his heart before punching out of the front, covered in crimson.

The man let out a light exhale of air as Athos abruptly withdrew the sword, the man dead before he could slump over onto the grassy floor, eyes lifeless.

He had never known death had been stalking him.

Turning in surprise, the two men at either side of their comrade, looked back in awe at the wild man behind them; only managing to note _he _was the musketeer they had been searching for all along, before he killed them.

Drilling one man through the eye socket with a ball from his musket and tearing the final mans head from his body with a violent blow to his neck from his sword, Athos froze on the spot; panting heavily as he glared down at them, taking more than a few seconds to acknowledge what he'd just done as the red faded from his sight.

"See you in hell" he gritted out, his revenge tasting bitter and incomplete.

_He should have let them put up a fight, let them beg for mercy, tortured them slowly with a shot to the gut__…_but his need for revenge had overwhelmed him and so they had died 'peacefully.'

Removing his eyes from the bloodied corpses, Athos looked up to stare at the raging inferno before him, hearing the shattering of glass from the windows above, the crackling of dry wood and straw, the thick smell of smoke claiming the area…he didn't smell flesh…yet.

Athos wandered forward numbly, dropping his sword and pistol in the grass as he went; no longer aware of his numb fingers as they lost their grip on his only defences.

_He had to see her again. Had to bury her, it was how it should be._

Athos limped forwards, footsteps halting with each movement he made, his knees locking awkwardly as if in protest.

Walking in through the arc of flames, Athos was forced to bend low so he could peer beneath the flames.

It was as if time had slowed right down, the sparks seeming to hover in the air as they crackled up from the curtains towards the flame covered ceiling that made up the second floor above his head.

The beams creaking overhead as the fire destroyed the rooms upstairs, Athos shifted forwards; lungs spasming painfully as he refused to cover his mouth and nose against the thick smokey air.

_He didn__'__t deserve relief. He wanted to _feel _the agony he had caused. _

Eyes catching on a figure across the room by the pantry, Athos shuffled over grimly, heart slugging harshly against his ribs as if it were tar being pumped around his body and not blood.

He bent over the burning body of a woman, reaching for the smouldering fabric of her shoulders that revealed red blistering skin beneath. He swept the singed hair from her face to reveal her identity.

_Miriams' mother._

_She had been shot in the head… yet the dark lines across her throat indicated bruising, possibly asphyxiation _Athos reasoned absently, the portrait behind him falling from the wall, enshrouded by flames and releasing its glass all over the floor.

He paid it no mind as he scooped the woman up into his arms and headed for the door, intent on bringing her to rest on the grass before he could return to seek out Miriams' missing body.

It was as he turned, that Athos saw the second figure slumped behind the open door, knees drawn to her chest, the edge of her skirt burning with fallen embers, her frame rocking, eyes watering.

_Miriam… And she was alive!?_

His heart thudded harshly against his chest once more, as if intent on leaving his body altogether, fingers tightening around the hot body in his arms, nails digging into flesh, eyes beginning to water anew -the smoke not being the only reason this time.

Athos stumbled over to Miriam, propping her mother gently up against the opposite wall only a foot away, noticing that her vacant eyes managed to track the corpse, and yet, seemed to stare straight through him.

Athos cupped her face in his hands, brushing away her streaming hair and falling tears as he knelt in front of her, face close to her own, eyes pleading silently to give him her attention.

Though he was overjoyed to find her alive, a new kind of agony seeped into his bones as her traumatized state told her she remained caged within the confines of her own mind.

_She may be alive… but she was not with the living._

"Miriam, _please_, talk to me… Say something, anything!" Athos begged, tapping her bruised cheek lightly, hoping to find recognition flare in her hollowed eyes.

She continued to stare at her mother, ignorant of her saviours' presence.

Athos shook his head in defeat and slowly hooked an arm under her knees while skirting an arm around her shoulders, and delicately rose to lift her light body from the floor.

_He supposed she had been lucky to have been sitting where she was, no flames having found her hideaway yet… Then again, the meaning of luck had no place in this living nightmare._

Athos quickly carried her from the home, heading away from the house and the three dead men to deposit her on the grass; taking a moment to unclasp his cloak from its place around his shoulder and drape it over her trembling back while she once again, hugged her knees to her chest and stared into the flames, _unseeing_.

Athos' brow knitted with worry and concern, kneeling at her side and placing a hand on her shoulder -though she still refused to look up at him.

"_Please, _stay here where you will be safe… I must fetch your mother" Athos instructed desperately, accepting her silence as some sort of confirmation before heading away, back to the burning house.

He thought he'd heard a snort from her as he'd spoke of 'safety' but he quickly pushed it from his mind, _he could deal with that later._

Fatigue now wiped thoroughly from his once numbed system, Athos used the new adrenaline shooting through his veins to quickly dart through the burning home once more and retrieve her mother from the place he had left her -the beams beginning to splinter and heave above his head as he left; chunks of charred wood falling in the place he'd been stood.

Bursting back out the door, hair singing and eyes watering, Athos moved back to Miriam on the grass; purposely laying her mother a few feet behind her so she may not be disturbed by the sight.

_She had seen enough._

Athos sighed heavily as he stumbled back over to Miriam and collapsed heavily at her side, following her stricken gaze back to the burning home as the centre began to collapse in on itself.

He could only imagine what this image was doing to her, all of the memories, both the good and bad, burning to ash and sweeping skyward by the wind, gone forever.

_No mementos, no relief and no comfort that they could ever rebuild what had been lost here._

Athos chanced a guilty glance back over to Miriam, the generous, charming, caring woman who had taken them in their hour of need, done what she could for Porthos to keep him alive when he wouldn't have made it through the night otherwise.

She had even offered him comfort after his nightmares, allowed him to bathe himself of the gruesome bloody reminders that stained his clothes and slowly allowed him to feel love again -through her actions.

_And _this _is how he repaid her…With horror, bloodshed, loss, destruction._

_He should have known better than to involve her in his life, everybody he had ever loved, whom he'd let get close, whom had cared for him, all died -or suffered a tragic loss._

Athos looked over her again. Miriam now sat broken, lost and in agonizing pain, her home burning to the ground before her, mother and father slain by the men who were seeking _his _flesh, not hers.

_This was all his fault. And he would carry this guilt forever, as he rightly should._

Athos leant over to her cautiously, turning in the grass so he could sit before her, blocking the traumatic view of her home with his presence.

Her red rimmed, teary green eyes slid, ever so slowly, over to meet his; recognition dawning on her face, mouth still hanging agape, hair flying wildly behind her, face pale as snow.

He waited for the blow to the face, the anguished screams, the accusations, the threats.

Athos closed his eyes and waited for her to act…but nothing came.

Instead she fell forwards suddenly, burying her face in his shirt and _sobbed_, her fingers raking his back as if she could somehow meld his body into hers if she tugged hard enough.

Athos just sat there in shock, arms raised as she continued to squeeze his chest tightly, forcing the air from his lungs while she muffled her wails of woe into his shirt.

Slowly, he brought his arms up and around her; stroking her back gently and resting his chin atop her head, trying to make sure she knew he was here _this _time, in this different hour of need.

That he would never let her face this alone again, never abandon her to her fate, never leave her unprotected.

Miriam tried to stop crying, to be strong but the emotions just continued to pour from her soul into this mans shirt.

_He had come back! He had not left her to her demise! _

_He had _cared _for her like no one else had… He had _dared _to come back against these men who had done this to her family, had _slain _the men she had seen remain by her home to taunt her. Had _brought _her late mother some peace of mind by removing her from a fiery grave of damnation. _

_And he was _still _here for her, even now... He had always been here for her…he may not have realized it but somewhere in this land, he had just been waiting for her, waiting for his path to collide with hers._

_A tragic reunion for destined souls._

She gripped at him tightly, hoping and finding comfort in knowing that he would not leave her here, _alone_.

She cried and cried over her tragic loss until no tears came and she could only hiccup shallow breaths; his warm presence _still _at her side even as the heat from the flames she could no longer see, began to die down and the light of the sun set, leaving only darkness.

_And _still _he stayed. He stayed through the dark and the slowly rising winds. He stayed even when the rain began._

She held onto him as if her life depended on it, taking small comforts in his fresh smells of gunpowder, straw and the berries of wine that lingered on his uniform under her nose as she kept her face pressed to his chest.

She wasn't sure when he had lain back and dragged her with him, didn't remember the cloak he'd placed around her shoulders that now protected her against the small pattering of light raindrops.

Miriam cast her eyes to her still mother who now lay at her feet; her face turned away, hands clasped over her chest.

_If not for her singed fabric, she may have thought she was sleeping out here under the half concealed starry night with them._

"Thank you" she whispered finally, breathing the words out lightly against his cold chest.

She felt it hum as he replied quietly, "Do not thank me."

Miriam frowned in confusion, mind taken away from her current predicament as she raised her body slightly over his, propping herself up to lean her elbows in the cool, damp grass beneath her, taking her first glance at the loving man lying below her.

_He seemed pained and would not meet her eyes._

She reached tender, thin fingers to his cheek, gently gliding it down the stubble on his jaw, convincing him to look at her with stormy eyes, his soul baring a haunted look of deep misery, regret, woes and guilt.

"No. _Thank you_, Athos" Miriam repeated with determination, eyebrows knitting together, desperate for her man to accept the value of her words.

He looked away again and so she crawled atop him, palms braced either side of his head, small body not reaching more than half way down his frame, her hair cascading down either side of his face; trapping his evasive eyes from the darkened land about and forcing him to look up into her face.

_He still looked tormented. Did he blame himself for this? He _had _to understand there was nothing more he could have done__…__She could not leave him to carry this on his shoulders._

Miriam leant forwards ever so slowly, eyes half lidded, green eyes hooded in shadows, pupils dilated and breath coming out quiet and slow. Lower and lower, cautious but not holding back until her lips brushed against his.

She did no move for a moment, waiting for him to react, eyes closed, lashes resting against her cheeks. Waiting for him to make the move she hoped would come.

And slowly, Athos did. Responding to her soft kiss with his own, his hands coming up to rest on either side of her silken head and stroke it gently as he continued to kiss her, her own hand stroking through his soft hair, repeating the comforting motion.

Before long they were both kissing passionately, their bodies conveying what their words could not, pouring their passion, their misery, their pain, their loss, all of it into their first kiss.

Finally, Miriam leaned back once more, her chest glowing with adoration, stomach tingling as her spirit rose as if from a grave, bright green eyes looking longingly into his as he did hers.

_They could get past this, they had each other._

And so after a moment more of silence the two slowly rolled into a sitting position, looking around their darkened surroundings.

Athos acknowledged Miriams mother sadly.

_They had no way to bury her__…__the shovels needed were in the barn__…__and he could not carry more than two on his horse that sat patiently by the edge of the field__…_

_They had to move on... Somewhere they could hide from view__…__ More men could return and attack…He couldn__'__t lose her again… Not after how far they__'__d come together. _

_Not after what she had become to him._

Athos gently placed the cloak from her shoulders over her mothers body, standing behind her once more and putting his arms around her shoulders comfortingly as she wept out an unsteady prayer.

_She knew what had to be done now._

Slowly they departed for Athos' waiting stallion, Athos hoisting her up first and hopping up behind, holding her closely, trying to provide her with the warmth and protection she needed.

_They needed shelter if it were to continue to rain like this._

Peering out across the dark plains Athos spotted the dark, dense form of a forest he'd noticed before that lay across the field from the ruined house.

_It would be better than laying out in the open, no one could see them in there. They would be _safe_. _

Pulling on the reigns lighting, Athos guided his horse off in the direction of the forest; dearly hoping they had overcome the worst of times and be allowed the fortune of a good nights rest once they found thick enough cover to hide from the rain.

There was no turning back now.

**And there you have it! I hope you were able to deal with the emotional journey of it all, I realize a lot happened****…****oh and by the way, any of you guys remember where Porter went off to?****…****.yeah, just think about that for a minute ;) **

**Ugh I****'****m so evil I know, no characters are safe from the likes of me! Please leave a review to let me know what you thought! Still a lot more of this to come!**


	17. Shelter

**For once I am continuing from the last chapter -instead of flitting to another persons p.o.v. Hope you like the slowed pace/change...it wont last! ;)**

_Luck. _

That highly debatable concept flitted through Athos' mind before he had the sense to ignore it.

_They could hardly consider finding a suitable enough shelter under some fallen pines lucky._

_They shouldn__'__t even be out here, alone, in the dark, in the cold, in the rain, in the woods, in the middle of the bloody countryside -without food or water. This was as _far _from lucky as one could possibly get _Athos concluded grimly.

_Not to mention all the horrors that had brought them to this lowly position__…_

But Athos tried to see the silver lining beneath it all.

Admittedly, it was not his forte to be so optimistic and positive -but he _needed _to be strong on Miriams behalf right now.

She had drawn herself into an almost catatonic state over the twenty minute period they'd spent sifting through the pine needle covered floor; moving slowly so as not to misplace their steps in the blanket of darkness that hid dangerous ruts, stones and branches.

_They could not afford to be callous and risk injuring themselves out here. It could be the death of them._

And so as 'luck' would have it, Athos had found two wide pines, half uprooted from the ground and leaning against a sturdy enough, large oak that left a wide eleven foot underneath.

_It was the best shelter they were likely to find._

Athos had quickly dismounted his horse, catching Miriam as she seemed to slide from the saddle without his support; the once present and loving look in her eyes now clouded over with a broken, detached, teary gaze.

Unable to drag Miriam from her memories -and not wanting to disturb her further- Athos had tied the reigns of his mount to a branch and scooped her up into his arms, stooping ever so slightly as he entered the small shelter; and using his foot to kick aside any particularly hard rocks or jutting twigs before placing her down gently.

She resumed her earlier position, drawing her knees to her chest and hiding her face in her knees, trembling slightly -though whether that was from the increasing cold of night or the events of the day, Athos was unsure.

Heading over to his saddle bags, Athos produced the thick blanket meant for his mount and paced back over to her shivering form, draping it about her shoulders and taking a moment to brush the hair from her face, her eyes remaining vacant.

Seeing he could do no more here, Athos exited the shelter and rose to his full height, taking a moment to asses the layout of the area; his ears picking up the subtle but unmistakeable sounds of a bubbling brook.

_And it sounded close._

Peering around desperately through the gloomy trees; hand raised to his brow out of habit.

At closer inspection, Athos noticed there was a small stream about ten paces to his right, just a little further into the forest.

_He could replenish their much needed water supply at last._

Moving back to his saddle, Athos uncovered his empty canteen and strode carefully through the brush to the stream, glancing over his shoulder towards the shelter every few seconds.

_He would not leave her unguarded again._

Filling it to the brim, Athos stood once more, stilling when he heard the snapping of a twig about twenty or so paces ahead.

Try as he might, Athos' straining eyes and ears were not able to recover any further information about whatever lurked out there.

Droplets of rain were slowly growing into the size of pellets now, tapping off the sparse leaves above him and sliding straight through any pine needles, falling mercilessly onto his head and trickling down his collar over his spine, making him shiver.

_He could not waste any more time out here, even if he would rather stand guard. He was no use to her if he got himself sick._

Athos reluctantly turned from his position, his eyes the last to leave the inky blackness through which the sound had intruded, before striding back over to the shelter and crouching low so he may sit inside by his woman.

"Here, drink this" Athos placed the canteen into Miriams' trembling fingers, clasping his own, warm hands about hers so she could hold it properly.

Her eyes slid down to the canteen, only half aware of what was going on about her.

Not about to stir up a fuss, Miriam slowly raised the lip of the canteen to her mouth and took a few small sips before bringing it back down to her lap, still staring straight ahead.

Athos felt deeply concerned by her behaviour. He knew how the mind was much more fragile than the body, how it could take years to repair the damage that could be so easily inflicted, and even then it may not fully restore its faculties.

_He dearly hoped this would not be such an occasion. This woman meant the world to him now, he owed her for the life of his brother and so much more._

Athos drew an arm around her shoulders to prevent the incessant rocking, forcing her to lean against his side as his eyes took once more to the darkness before him.

He would have liked to have made a fire, but with the weather soaking everything around them as it was, Athos doubted he could even create a spark.

It was so cruel that the rain would come now that her home had been burnt to a smouldering ruin, that it would dare to grace them with such relief after it was clearly much too late.

Athos' tired expression turned into one of annoyance -and after too long of a silence without distraction to quell his spiralling mind- turning to rage over the assailants still roaming free about this land.

_They should have never retreated from that battle__…__well, perhaps Aramis and Porthos should have, but _he _should have remained behind. Should have stayed to slaughter every last man that had dared attack them._

_It was because _he _had allowed such a retreat that Porthos had been wounded, that D__'__artagnan had been forced to search the dead for their missing bodies, that the woman they had taken advantage of was now homeless and her parents had been slain._

_All his fault._

Athos shook his head, he would spend a lifetime making it up to them, lord knows he was already trying to overcome his lifetime of sins.

_He knew he didn__'__t deserve them, didn__'__t deserve her. But his aching loneliness held him to their sides, he could not walk away. He was nothing but a fool, a drunk and a coward without them by his side._

_At least if he tried to find purpose in his life and pay for his sins… perhaps _then _he would receive some forgiveness from his sentence in hell when he finally reached his deathbed._

_He was beginning to doubt it with each new day of destruction he wrought upon this world._

Another snap of a twig from afar brought Athos senses on edge, hair rising on end as his sixth sense tried to warn him of something.

_Someone was out there._

Despite the temptation to leave the shelter as he would have done, Athos remained by Miriams side.

_Perhaps the darkness of this shelter will shield us from prying eyes. _He could only hope.

After many long hours, Athos' senses had begun to drift again, his place by her side now beneath her body as they lay against the dirty ground, too tired to sit.

Dawn was only hours away now, he could feel the morning warmth beginning to seep into his bones; hope entering his fuzzy mind as he knew that with warmth came light.

_And with light they could leave this blasted place._

Athos fumbled for his canteen lazily and brought it to his lips, not even a drop entering his dry mouth. He couldn't be bothered to fetch more, and what's more, he didn't want to risk waking Miriam.

She had dozed off into a fitful slumber some time ago, calling out for her mother, father and even Athos at one point. All he could do was offer soothing whispers and stroke her cheek until she became silent.

_He could do nothing more for her._

It was those words that cut a path of despair and anger into his heart as he lay there, _useless_.

_Do Nothing. He__'__d already made that mistake once and paid dearly for it. He would _never _hang back from a rescue nor retreat from a battle again so long as he lived. _

_There had always been a reason he had won so many battles -he could not stand to lose. _

He looked over to the beautiful woman by his side, her elegant features seeming so peaceful in the half light.

_One would never have guessed the horrors that lay beneath the cool exterior. _He would know.

Taking note that her dress had risen up just above her knee, Athos reached a tender hand over and gently pulled the garment down.

_She had not been dressed for this weather, she would freeze like this...but then again, no one could ever dress properly for such unforeseen circumstances… ones he could have prevented…_

Despite his cautious movements, Miriam had startled at his touch and bolted upright with a small shriek and clutched at his wrists; digging her nails into his skin, eyes wild at her perverse intruder.

For a moment she found herself staring back up at Porter, that evil man who had delivered such pain and suffering to her home; his wicked smile blurring before her features before it melted into the background and Athos' concerned gaze looked down from above.

"I'm sorry! I realize what this may look like but I assure you I was not aiming to take advantage of you in this position. I would never-" Athos fumbled with shame and embarrassment, shrinking away from her so she may not feel so disturbed by his touch.

Miriam smiled lightly as she remembered her saviour, he thoughts drifting back to the grassy meadow that had sheltered her somewhat from the pain that wreaked havoc in her mind.

She sniffled slightly and sat up beside him, placing a cool hand on his knee an provoking his cool blue eyes to meet hers, shaking her head minutely as a slight smile graced her tired face.

"I believe you, Athos. It's okay, I _trust _you" Miriam whispered with utmost sincerity, a sad look crossing her features at the broken expression she was now receiving from him.

Athos was so torn by her simple heartfelt statement, her unwitting confession leaving him to feel emotions he hadn't felt in years.

_Pride that someone had placed such trust in him, honoured that she would feel so safe about him, joy that he meant something more to her just as she was for him._

Athos' broken expression slowly began to right itself into a lopsided smile as he leaned forwards and kissed her on the forehead.

"I wouldn't trust me too much" she jested lightly, her eyes looking down as she felt through the apron pockets stitched to her dress, finding the fermented berries in a packet she had stowed there; intended to place them in the barrel of water she'd left in the kitchen before all of this had happened.

_Now they could make wine._

Athos' confusion turned back into a true smile as understanding dawned, he patted her knee lightly.

"I shall go and fetch some more water then, shall I?" he suggested in mock formality, rising slowly with his canteen to head over to the brook that now lay so obviously before them in the twilight.

After he had returned, Miriam placed the berries into the water, covering her palm over the lid and shaking the contents furiously.

Athos smiled as she worked, "I didn't know you were a budding alcoholic?" he joked, receiving a stunning smile from her face.

_Her first proper smile in oh so long._

"Carrots and turnips aren't as entertaining as they may seem… One has to 'pass the time' somehow" she explained, a mischievous grin lighting up her face.

"Oh, then I was clearly mistaken on that beloved experience... I do love a good romp around the cabbage patch" Athos added with humour.

Miriam shook her head, lighter so when a headache appeared thanks to her bruises.

"You must _already _be drunk, or have you forgotten I never grew any cabbages on the farm?" she teased, gaining another dazzling smile from the man before her.

_He should smile more often, that perfect mouth, those brilliant white teeth. Who knew alcoholics were so hygienic? _she mused, good naturedly.

She offered him the first sip but he politely declined, _you first._

Miriam shook her head lightly with determination, "Honestly stop being so childish, take a sip" she demanded.

Athos withheld the urge to roll his eyes, his chest buzzing with light hearted energy as he took a large gulp.

_How could this moment feel so normal after such tragedy had so recently bestowed them?_

The answer obviously lay with Miriam, her gentle spirit and optimistic attitude encouraging them to move forwards and lead more productive lives.

_Dwelling on the past brought nothing but suffering._

Athos swallowed, choking on the potent mixture and heaving forwards so he could cough and splutter, eyes streaming with pained tears.

"What's- in this stuff" he questioned, voice hoarse as he tried to regain his dignity, her low cackles causing a flare of embarrassment at his inability to hold the liquor.

"Special recipe" Miriam offered vaguely with a barely perceptible wink, grasping the canteen from his hands and taking a large gulp; seeming completely un-phased as she wiped the back of her hand on her mouth and burped loudly in a most unladylike manner.

Athos grinned again, he could get used to this 'having an alcoholic partner.' _It would certainly lighten the mood._

Athos placed his hands on his hips in an immature display mocking that of a scolding parent. It was through this gesture that Athos noticed, to his horror, his weapons were gone.

Looking about frantically and seeing them nowhere, Athos quickly searched his mind for the last place he had seen them.

_The farm! Damn it all! He had dropped them!_

Athos growled, shaking his head, Miriams' happy expression fading to one of concern.

_She was concerned for him after everything that happened to her? _Athos mouth hung open slightly in amazement as he saw her looking at him like that.

"What's wrong?" she questioned, tender hand back on his knee.

"It's nothing" he began, but her demanding gaze forced him to continue.

"It's just that I misplaced by weapons…but its alright! We can easily make do without them, there is no danger in the shelter of this forest" he quickly added, hoping to provide some comfort over his hideous error.

_He couldn__'__t bring her back there, not now. It was too traumatic, let alone open to attackers from all sides. No, they would just have to move on and hope for the best._

Miriam nodded slightly, accepting his information at face value, trying her best to erase the skepticism she felt and clinging to her promise of trust.

_He had saved her before, she would remain safe as long as she were with him._

Athos brought her into his arms again, looking out of their shelter.

_By first light, they would move on from here, leave it all behind and move ahead…defenceless. Until then they would rest, they would need the energy._

_There was really no choice in the matter without any provisions to sustain them, surely there were no attackers around to offer any threats._

_They had all moved on, _Athos was certain of it.

**Cliff hanger! Yay! Let me know what you thought!**

**I realize my bit about wine was inaccurate but I didn't see how they would have brought a bottle so….yeah**

**Oh and who else is excited for episode 2 tonight, raise your hand if- oh****…****well I****'****m sure I know your answer anyway ;D**

**Until next time!**


	18. Never A Dull Moment

**So I****'****ve just finished all the rough outlines for this story, now I just have to write out the details/speech****…**** there is at **_**least **_**15 more chapters to go, just to give you an idea! I made this chapter extra long because I haven't update all day -sorry about that!**

**Anyways, remember how I said things were going to start heating up two chapters ago? Well here you go ;D**

Flashback-2 hours ago

As the evening wore on, Porthos' exhausted body had demanded his surrender to sleep; his worrisome fever braking shortly afterwards to leave his brothers feeling relieved -their moment of contentment carrying on even through the loudest, most obnoxious snores coming from the bed, as it meant their brother was finally safe.

That was, until the nightmares began.

_No one was safe from the horror of nightmares._

They had begun only an hour into the blissful silence, causing Porthos to toss fitfully in his sleep and forcing Aramis out of his chair; scared to death that his brothers' infection had returned with a vengeance -just as he had thought it would.

It had been to his great relief that Aramis had found Porthos' temperature normal, his assessment on his friends health indicating that he was on the road to recovery…_so what was it that plagued him now? _

Only seconds after the thought had entered his mind, Porthos abruptly bolted upright in his bed, Athos' name spilling from his mouth in a desperate yell as his eyes shot open to take in his surroundings.

_Just a nightmare._

…_Based on reality__…__riddled with facts__…__._

The brothers had tried taking turns in consoling their friend but had a hard enough time convincing him Athos was alive and well when they too did not know if he was -nor could they explain why it was taking their brother so long to return.

_What had happened to his rescue? Had his plots for secrecy been foiled and he now lay dead or dying?__…__ Or was he just being cautious and taking a longer route back?_

There were some very big 'ifs' roaming around the mens' minds, too many worried questions to fool themselves into a relaxed state any longer.

They would see no peace until they were all reunited. As it should be.

After Aramis had forced Porthos back to bed and demanded he sleep, the two remaining brothers began a quite debate in the background; one of grim proportions that discussed all the plausible reasons as to Athos' 'extended disappearance.'

This only served to drive them mad as more questions piled onto those that still remained unanswered; the central theme of it all being that they had allowed Athos to leave them and ride off to fight numerous foes, alone.

Aramis sighed with heated frustration as D'artagnan continued his 'never say die' rant; the boys' optimistic outlook only serving to put more doubts in his mind than he'd had before.

"-all I'm saying, is Athos would have found another way around, and if he found another way around, then they couldn't have possibly seen him entering!" D'artagnan repeated the sentence -having stated it in numerous ways at least five times before this point.

"And if they didn't see him enter, then they couldn't have seen him leave! And if the didn't see him leave, then-" Aramis cut off D'artagnans' hushed rant when he raised a silent hand in the air. _Stop_.

D'artagnan seemed to deflate at his older brothers actions, _Why was he so determined to believe that Athos was lost?_

D'artagnan shook his head in frustration. _No, he would not give up on this. He would not just sit here and face __'__the facts.__'__ He was a musketeer, damn it, they didn__'__t give up and just sit around waiting._

"Perhaps one of us should stay behind and look after Porthos until he can ride?" D'artagnan suggested, leaning forward with the absurd proposal.

Aramis gave him a look of exasperation, pinching the bridge of his nose and answering with his eyes shut, "And so, pray tell, what is the second person doing while the other man 'stays behind?'" he questioned, already knowing the answer -and the roles to whom this applied.

"Well-" D'artagnan ventured nervously, "the second person would go after Athos. Of course, _I _would be that person… You look _dreadfully _tired as it is…and as the only travelling medic, _you _should probably be the one to stay by Porthos" D'artagnan reasoned quietly, looking down to fiddle with the loose stitching on his glove.

Aramis shook his head defiantly. _They had been over this!_

"We've already discussed why that plan would be unwise, D'artagnan" Aramis scolded, "-regardless of who accompanies Porthos -or travels for Athos- we would _both _be vulnerable for attack! Splitting up our forces even further will only get us killed!"

"Well its getting late now… if we left under the darkness of night, nobody would see us" D'artagnan retorted, adamantly.

"What? -and risk his health more!?" Aramis gestured to Porthos in annoyance, "No, I think not, we should both stay here, where it's safe" he added, giving D'artagnan a hard stare.

Before D'artagnan could retort as to what 'safe' really meant, the front door below them slammed open, the rough abuse causing the sound to reverberate through the home.

The argument quickly discarded behind them, the two brothers eyed each other with alarm, "Our hosts didn't say anything about midnight guests, did they?" Aramis ventured, rising slowly to mirror D'artagnans movements; fingers drifting towards their belts where their weapons lay.

As the brothers silently paced over to the front window of the home, by Porthos' bed to check the front yard below, a loud scuffle broke out below, pierced by a few men yelling cheerily and a shriek or horror. _The woman._

"There are more outside, too" D'artagnan reported the obvious, counting the five armed men that sat atop their mounts outside, holding onto the reigns of at least ten more rider-less horses.

"I see five" Aramis chipped in, keen eyes scanning the darkened forms.

_Why did these things always have to happen at night when no one could see? Oh right, because no one could see _Aramis acknowledged grimly, pacing back over to the door of their room.

As if in reply to Aramis' frustrated thoughts, the men outside suddenly lit hidden torches causing an eerie glow to cast up through the window frame. The brothers shared a strained look.

_It was too bad they hadn__'__t managed to pass that law yet for the crackdown -they could really do with help _D'artagnan pondered, glumly.

The scuffling downstairs had now turned into one of heated discussion, the raised voices of the men hinting that they had successfully detained the owners of the home for a rough round of questioning.

"There's fifteen horses out there" D'artagnan added, hair raising on end and swallowing nervously. _This didn__'__t look good._

Aramis bit his lip and ran a nervous hand through his hair, adrenaline pumping through his body as he stepped away from the window, plans scrambling to form in his addled brain.

_They must be searching for us__…__if they were mere bandits, they wouldn__'__t bother to waste time talking to anyone like this _Aramis reasoned grimly, hand on the door knob and twisting it gently.

"Wait! Where are you going?" D'artagnan hissed quietly, looking back to his brother with wild eyes, still standing by the window.

Aramis suddenly looked stricken and darted over to his youngest brother, yanking him away from the window.

_It was lucky no man had thought to look up, they may have seen his outline in the half light._

D'artagnan looked between his brother and the window, realization dawning on him and causing him to rub the back of his neck sheepishly, "Sorry" he muttered.

Aramis shook his head slightly but patted D'artagnan on the shoulder comfortingly, but the moment of silence was interrupted by a harsh slap sounding from downstairs followed by crying.

Intense gazes meeting for a moment, Aramis swiftly but silently ran back over to the door, D'artagnan treading lightly after him in his wake; glancing over once to their sleeping brother as they went. _What he didn__'__t know wouldn__'__t hurt him, yet._

"What are you doing?" D'artagnan hissed for a second time, gripping the worn leather of Aramis' shoulder as if to hold him back.

"Guard Porthos, don't let anyone but me back through this door. Understand?" Aramis commanded, completely side-stepping his brothers questions.

"You cant go down there, Aramis!" D'artagnan pleaded, now physically struggling to keep his brother from opening the door, "There's too many!"

Aramis allowed his expression to glide into a look of confidence, his cheeky grin doing nothing to settle D'artagnans' nerves.

"Well, if Athos can handle such odds, why can't I?" he retorted sarcastically, trying his best to inject some light hearted humour into the boys tense frame. It wasn't working.

"Aramis" D'artagnan pleaded, hand grasping his shoulder, "Don't."

Aramis gave D'artagnan a wink in reply, "Back before you know it" and with that shoved D'artagnan aside quickly, pried the door open and flew through to the other side, closing it as quietly as he could.

He could feel the frustration flowing through the other side of the door as D'artagnan bit back his curses and fought the urge to punch the door. _They needed to be quiet._

Aramis let the confident grin slip from his face to be replaced by one of utmost seriousness, _this was going to get rough. _

_Hopefully his training would pull him through this mess, else there may be two musketeers down before the end of this night _he swallowed, creeping down the stairs and untying the bandana from his neck as he crept ever closer to the unsuspecting man standing at the bottom of the stairs.

Without the four walls to muffle the noises he'd heard before, Aramis could easily detect muffled sobs coming from the drawing room while a squeaky small voice offering pleas.

_The woman must have been gagged__…__and now poor Arthur was being questioned _Aramis concluded, eyes growing ever darker.

Peering over the edge of the stairs as he crept down the middle steps, Aramis noted the shadows of at least nine men outlined on the floor, thanks to the firelight. _He could overcome that__…__Right?_

Aramis swallowed nervously, tightening the bandana to coil taught around his fingers, bracing himself as he came up behind the distracted assailant.

_It was now or never._

Aramis swept his arms over the other mans head, yanking his bandana under his neck and pulling back for all he was worth until they were both lying down against the stairs; the man struggling silently for breath and raking painfully at Aramis' arms as he fought to escape.

But Aramis refused to let go. It was only when the mans' vain floundering had died down, his form became limp and his eyes rolled back into his head that he dared to let go. _Dead_.

Aramis felt slight relief wash over him as he walked down the final steps to the bottom of the staircase, taking a second to eyeball the front door and thanking his luck that it was closed. _None of the men outside would notice his attack on their comrades._

Back pressed to the short wall by the stairs and peering around the edge, Aramis counted the backs of the figures of the nine men awaiting death.

_One down, fourteen to go _Aramis acknowledged, cricking his neck and pulling out his pistols.

_He could take out four with the double barrels of each gun _he reasoned, checking that they were loaded and clicking the hammers back.

Sweat poured from his forehead and Aramis swiped it away with the back of his sleeve before taking a deep breath to settle his jumping nerves.

_He would be fine, he was always fine. He__'__d faced worse odds than nine. Besides, should anything go wrong, his brothers were just upstairs__…__they would prevail._

Aramis let out a long, steady breath and kissed the golden cross on his neck. _Now or never, do or die, now or never_ he chanted silently and wheeled out from his hiding spot.

As he reached a fair distance from the men, Aramis came to a stop and pulled the triggers.

The once near silence of the room now erupted with the two simultaneous loud bangs as the pistols discharged; their bullets piercing through two unsuspected mens' backs. One straight through the heart the other through the head.

Aramis never missed his intended targets.

_His intentions were to dispatch the outer men first; he couldn__'__t leave them to circle around his vulnerable back. He would work his way inwards from here _he concluded, methodical mind assessing the problem as he knew Athos would.

As the fresh corpses began to tumble and drop down to the floor, their comrades began to spin on their heels in alarm.

What followed next, made Aramis feel as if he were witnessing the scene in slow motion.

The woman who had once knelt before them screamed through her gag and flopped over to her kneeling husband, knocking them both flat to the floor, safe.

Aramis silently thanked her quick thinking as he continued to slide his guns in opposite directions, their new targets in sight.

Aramis pulled the triggers again and plugged another two assailants before they were even half turned; one through the side of the head to splatter his brains out the other ear and one through the side of his gut. One fell with agonized screams, the other remained silent.

_Five down, ten to go _Aramis counted, dropping his spent pistols to the slowly crimson staining floor and reaching behind him for the dagger that lay suspended in its sheath in the small of his back.

Whipping it out and over his head, the dagger sailed, spiralling end over end before it sunk its long fang deep into the throat of a oncoming man; forcefully stopping him in his tracks so he could clutch at his throat and drop to his knees.

_Six down, nine to go _Aramis corrected, a slight smirk beginning to spread out across his face as it usually did when he knew a battle was won. _The odds were ever turning in his favour._

Just as the remaining four in front of him began to raise their guns and un-sheath their swords menacingly, Aramis heard a series of loud shots rang out from above.

_D__'__artagnan._

_He must be dealing with the scum outside at his back. Good for you! _Aramis' praised mentally; his smirk transforming into a grin, his eyes shining eerily at the men before him.

_It was good to know the ones outside were being taken care of _Aramis concluded as he dodged to the left of an downwards arcing sword; gripping his right hand to the mans' wrist and placing his left hand just above the elbow before pushing one up and the other down.

The result was a loud snap as the assailants vulnerable sword arm bent the wrong way at the elbow, a scream of agony ripping from his mouth before Aramis shoved a fist into his face; breaking his nose and crumpling the man to the floor.

_Out of commission and out of this fight _Aramis mused, grin plastered to his face.

_Since D__'__artagnan had dismantled five and he had dispatched seven, that meant there were only three left standing…and they stood here before him _Aramis calculated coldly, his moves becoming much more artistic as he played with his prey.

_Better not keep them waiting!_

As two swords arched horizontally towards his face from either side of his body, Aramis quickly ducked and rolled into the man at his dead centre; knocking them both down to the floor and landing on top.

_It had looked like they__'__d wanted to chop off his beautiful head! _Aramis mused in mock offence before seriously noting that they were in for the kill. _No survivors__…_

Aramis could live with that _-as long as they weren__'__t the ones surviving._

From his place on the floor, on top of the man, Aramis quickly rolled onto his side to avoid the now thrusting downwards swords of his assailants.

This foolish manoeuvre, of course, resulted in the men stabbing their own downed man in the gut; his spluttering cries turning into gasps of pain as they abruptly removed their swords and continued to seek the flesh of their intended target. _No remorse for their actions._

_Another man down, only two to go! _Aramis celebrated with a chuckle.

_If only his mother had taught him his numbers like this, he would have loved learning math! _Aramis mused darkly, continuing his small roll across the floor between the men so that his sword hip was free.

Awkwardly pulling it up and out of its sheath, Aramis' sword made a large arch through the air towards his right, the blow landing down on the standing mans knee cap.

The assailant cried out in pain and began to fall back, removed from the fight.

But not before dropping his pistol which tumbled down through the air and directly into the waiting palm of Aramis, who swiped it coolly from the air.

His finger finding the trigger, Aramis raised his arm straight up and out, inching it a degree to his left side; straight at the man who stood over him who it seemed was preparing to do some serious harm with his dagger.

The angle of the pistol left a bullet hole straight through the mans jaw and out the top of his head as Aramis fired; his brains colouring the ceiling in crimson gore as they splattered out onto the ceiling -killing him long before he could drop limply to the floor.

Not daring to forget about the wounded man with half a knee cap, Aramis arched his back against the floor, raised his legs and used his strong arms to flip himself back up onto his feet.

Whirling on the spot to face the cowardly man who had dragged himself over to the vulnerable woman, Aramis spotted the glint of a dagger now clutched in the mans hand.

He was holding it to her throat, menacingly.

Aramis suddenly heard heavy footfalls on the stairs as he stepped forwards to intervene.

_Splendid! D__'__artagnan would enjoy seeing the last of these petty fools die… Plus, he could show off the amazing battle scene! -No one was _ever _there in time to witness his best work _Aramis sighed, turning his attention back to the bald headed, beady eyed villain.

_He could almost smell his breath from here! Whatever filth he__'__d been eating lately hadn__'__t been kind to his mouth _Aramis noted, staring at the few, misshapen yellow teeth hanging from his gums as he smiled at him wickedly; thinking he had won.

Aramis inspected the assailants stolen pistol in his hand lazily. _One shot left._

"You won't shoot" the man declared, pressing his dagger more firmly against the terrified woman's' jugular; a small pinprick of blood becoming visible.

"I'm told I'm a very good shot" Aramis replied smugly, taking his time.

_Admittedly, he felt slightly guilty at his cool, leisurely behaviour since the woman in front appeared absolutely petrified. _

Aramis hoped the confident vibes and men strewn about would assure her she was now safe. _He would make the man pay dearly._

"If you shoot me, I'll kill her" the man retorted, veins standing out in his neck as the pressure of the moment skyrocketed in the room. This was a battle of wits that this man would lose.

Aramis rolled his eyes, "You will not slice fast enough" he replied matter-of-factly; allowing an air of arrogance to flow about him, "-but you can try" he dared with an evil smile, a mad glint to his eyes.

_He was sure the man would whip the blade at him, the woman was no part of this really and they both knew it. _

Aramis just wanted to see him try to kill a musketeer now that he was giving him the 'once-in-a-lifetime' chance to do so. _Quite literally, in fact._

The footsteps Aramis had heard now seemed to reach the bottom of the staircase and he began to smile. However, his smile began to fade as yet another familiar noise suddenly broke through the air.

The creaking of a door that had just blown open.

Cold dread suddenly claiming his heart, Aramis started to turn his body to alert D'artagnan that he had missed a man -and should probably take him down.

But it was all too late.

A man had walked in swiftly, gun already drawn, aimed and cocked -and pointed straight at Aramis.

Without a care in the world, the man pulled the trigger, the ball from the pistol digging into Aramis' shoulder and spinning him back around just in time to see the remaining assailant he'd been dealing with, slice the dagger across the woman's throat; blood gushing from the wound as she began to fall.

Time slowed down once more as Aramis stood stock still at the sight before him, horror on his face at the beaming man and dead woman. Without thinking, Aramis weakly fired a round between the mans eyes -but it had all been in vain.

_He had let her die and now Arthur was crying tears of anguish over her, _cradling her body into his while he stood there, frozen to the spot. Aramis was too numb to feel the full extent of the fiery pain that scorched a hole in his shoulder.

D'artagnan -who had indeed been on the staircase to warn Aramis of the man who had escaped his shots- wasted no time in leaping out of the front door at the armed man and shoving them both back outside.

As soon as they'd hit the dirt, the pistol had gone flying and D'artagnan used the vulnerability to his advantage; holding the mans head to the dirt as he punched a blade into the mans bottom jaw, watching with satisfaction but murder in his eyes as the man slowly faded before him, blood covering his hands as it flowed freely.

Panting heavily, D'artagnan quickly reigned in his rage and shot up to his feet, rushing back inside.

"Aramis!" he called out desperately, scanning the interior full of bodies before spying his brother stumbling sideways to lean heavily against a table; his tear filled brown eyes still locked onto the dead woman and crying man.

_The assailant had gotten his last wish. _

D'artagnan slowly lowered his brother down to the bloodied floor and delicately slid him towards the wall; pressing a gloved hand against his dark stained shoulder and receiving a light hiss from Aramis -though he still refused to break his gaze from the scene to his left.

"I'm so sorry Aramis! I couldn't get an angle… I couldn't reach him in time!" D'artagnan cried, trying but failing to staunch the blood flow that poured between his fingers; his desperation growing all the more worried at the sight of Aramis' far away, broken gaze.

_Was he going into shock already? Was the would that fatal?_

D'artagnans' mind spiralled into misery as he tore at his sleeve and placed it against the wound, receiving only a sigh of pain from Aramis this time.

_She had been depending on him. His stupid vanity had cost her._

Aramis felt himself shaking in horror, _or was that D__'__artagnan shaking him?__…_

Aramis rolled his tear filled eyes over to his blurry brother who knelt before him.

" 'rmis you're goin' into shock" D'artagnan seemed to mumble, a concerned look on his face.

Aramis doubted it was the same kind of shock he was feeling right now but he embraced it none the less.

_He had killed this woman, he deserved to feel the full horror of this moment. Some hero he was. This was his fault. First Porthos, now her...he hadn__'__t done his duty! It was good that he__'__d been shot for his treachery -now he could immediately serve his time in hell for these unforgivable sins _Aramis accepted absently.

_It had all been going so well__…_and with that last thought Aramis let his eyes flutter closed.

D'artagnans' emotions doubled ten fold at seeing his older brother close his eyes.

_Don__'__t you dare do this to me, Aramis! _he begged silently, shaking his motionless brother but receiving no acknowledgement.

Hesitantly, D'artagnan pressed his fingers to his limp brothers throat, counting the seconds before suddenly there was resistance.

_A heartbeat! Thank god!_

D'artagnans eyes overflowed with held back tears, staining his cheeks as he ducked his head in relief.

The relief was not to last long, however, as unbeknownst to the brothers, just outside lay many lit torches sitting by their fallen riders; the flames of the night catching onto the slight wind that drifted through the plains and carried with them their sparks.

The embers floated lightly across the few open feet of dirt to catch on a nearby bush resting against the base of the home; the dry heat of the summer allowing the flames to climb; its actions unhindered as the people inside attended to their 'business.'

It looked like the assailants had achieved their goal after all; 'kill people/burn things,' it was all the same to them.

**I really hope you liked it! You have noooo idea how hard it was to keep track of those numbers and what room who was standing in! AGHH! I even had to draw it out lol.**

**Anyways, let me know what you thought of it!**


	19. Grave Sight

**Thanks for the reviews/follows/faves! This chapter should keep you entertained! Have fun with it! **

**Enjoy!**

"Oi! You just snuck a card under your sleeve!" Porthos accused, grasping D'artagnans arm and attempting to peel back his cuffs to inspect his arm within.

"I did nothing of the sort!" D'artagnan retorted, cheeky grin on his face as he ripped his arm free and stared back at his cards.

"Admit it, Porthos, you've lost" Aramis said with a chuckle, his place in this game having ended long ago so he could enjoy taunting the misery of the loser.

"But- I never lose!" Porthos whined, slamming his cards down, face up to reveal his poor hand.

"Aha! I win!" D'artagnan exclaimed gleefully, raising his arms in victory before leaning in towards the table to rake in the coins.

"What about a rematch?" Porthos interrupted, staying D'artagnans' reaching arms before he could collect his winnings.

D'artagnan tutted at his sore loser of a brother and shook his head, "I don't think so Porthos. _I _won fair and square. Now unhand me you big ape" he teased good naturedly, escaping the mans grasp once more to snatch up the shining coins.

"Athoooooos!" Porthos complained; making sure to place extra emphasis on the end of his brothers' name to convey his unhappiness, still unable to accept the situation.

Athos pinched the bridge of his nose and let out an audible sigh, "What is it?" he droned unhappily. _He wasn__'__t nearly drunk enough for this yet._

"Could ya' convince the whelp to strike up a rematch?" he grovelled, eyeing his leader hopefully with big innocent eyes.

Athos shook his head and raised his glass towards his lips, "Not a chance" he replied, downing the wine. Porthos scowled grumpily with a humph.

Aramis beamed mischievously as Porthos turned back around, but the slight movement of hands under their table weren't quick enough to escape notice and caught his brothers' eye.

"What was that?" Porthos growled, receiving an indifferent shrug from Aramis, "What was what?" he asked.

Porthos' eyes turned into suspicious slits, appearing menacing through the flickering candlelight of the tavern. Shoving his hand under the table, Porthos ripped Aramis' hands up, successfully turning them out into the open light despite his struggles.

In them lay half a dozen cards that could win a hand several times over…

"You've been stealing my cards!" Porthos yelled, rising from his chair, Aramis backing up into a defensive stance looking quite petrified.

_Nobody messed with Porthos when he was playing a game of cards…even if it was hilarious._

"Uhm, Athos, I think I could use a little help here!" Aramis pleaded from across the table, D'artagnan grinning at them from his seat, wanting to see how this played out.

Receiving no response from his brother, Aramis called again, "Athos?!"

Still nothing.

"Please, Athos!….Athos?…Athos, wake up!"

Athos obeyed, prying his eyelids apart in the half light of dawn, blinking around blearily to find himself sitting under a slightly damp pine tree in the middle of a forest.

_It was just a dream__…__and a pleasant one for a change. Must be her doing _Athos' first thoughts concluded as he looked over to Miriam fondly, trying to repress a yawn as he stretched out his limbs.

His smile faded, however, when he saw a deep look of worry plastered across her features; suddenly noting that her fingers were wrapped tightly around his arm.

"What is it?" he whispered, sensing the need for a stealthy conversation.

"I think I heard something" Miriam replied, eyes darting about the half lit foliage of the morning light.

Athos joined her search; adept eyes roving over the areas he would most likely lurk should he be stalking something…_or someone._

After an in depth scan of the area, Athos came up empty.

_But that didn__'__t mean Miriam had been wrong._

Athos placed a hand on her knee and began to rise up, "Stay here" he ordered, "I'll go take a closer look" he added and rolled to his feet from their shelter; the damp ground crunching slightly as twigs gave way underfoot and leaves rustled at his touch.

There was a dip in the land just a few paces ahead, a large collection of bushes growing up from the area.

_The perfect hiding spot._

Athos treaded forwards lightly, head still swivelling around as he approached, stopping only once to pick up a large, thick branch should he need to protect himself.

He would never forgive himself for leaving his weapons.

But as he came closer to the bush, a snapping of twigs suddenly sounded behind him.

Turning fast but ducking low, Athos barely missed the bullet meant for his head; the shot flying wildly overhead and sinking into a tree with a small 'thwack,' bark raining down from its trunk.

Looking up, Athos saw there were three men positioned just behind the shelter, weapons raised menacingly, all aimed at him. One was smiling at him like a psychopath, congratulating him on his quick reflexes.

_They mustn__'__t have noticed Miriam right in front of them. The way she was sheltered just out of sight was a brilliant stroke of luck._

_There was that word again._

Athos quickly rushed forwards towards the men now circling around the shelter, noting the centre mans demonic grin as he hung back to watch the fight begin.

_Must be the leader _Athos acknowledged with a grunt before he rammed straight into the midsection of the large brute coming at him full force; his lowered stance allowing him to heave the mans' feet up off the floor and flip him over his back.

_Porthos would have been proud _he mused silently. _It had taken him forever to get that form right back in training._

Swinging around to face the fallen assailant, Athos took a step towards the floundering pile of limbs and projected a fast boot into his face; the mans head flying back with the harsh cracking sound of his neck. _Dead_.

Turning to greet the second oncoming and slightly slower man -due to his large stature and weight- Athos found he had misjudged the time and distance it should have taken for him to reach such an intimate threshold as the six foot five ogre suddenly rammed into his chest and drove him back a dozen steps; flinging his back into a tree and removing all oxygen from his lungs.

Dropping to the floor, Athos dug his fingers desperately into the earth, grasping futilely at pine needles and dirt as he took to a crawl, head hung low as he tried to force air back into his starving lungs.

_He hated this feeling, the feeling of overwhelming inferiority as his attacker stood by smiling at his work and taunting him while he squirmed on the ground. Hated anyone who could take pleasure out of another mans pain. Hated the men responsible for Miriams predicament. These men by the looks of it…_

Despite the rage boiling up inside, Athos was restricted to heaving and crawling; his spasming fingers finding the end of the stocky tree branch he'd held and curling around it tightly.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" the brute teased, crouching low beside him and placing an arm on his back to shove him back down to the dirt.

He shouldn't have gotten so close.

As Athos played along with the little game of master and weakling, he quickly snaked his arm underneath the foliage, alongside the mans boots and up to his hip towards a dagger.

The man unaware of these movements, leant closer towards Athos' hung face, forcing a rotten smell into his nostrils as he grinned wickedly.

"You should 'ave run while you 'ad the chance" he warned, spitting at the pathetic assailant.

Athos raised his head slowly, looking through his brows, eyes aflame with murder, a smirk to his lips, "So should you" he whispered and with that rammed the unsheathed dagger into the mans back, the strange diagonal angle leading it to slice between the foes ribs and puncture a lung.

The man flew back in surprise but it was all over for him now.

As Athos rose to his feet and brushed himself off and took in a delightful lungful of precious air, the assailant stumbled around on wobbly legs; hands numbly clutching at the protruding dagger as small strangled noises gurgled up from his throat, terror in his eyes at the prospect of an early death.

"What's the matter, cat got your tongue?" Athos repeated icily, flipping the bloody dagger in his hand smartly as he turned away from the falling man in a dismissive manner.

"Oh, bravo!" a mans voice called to his left; _the leader of the pack. The last one standing._

Athos flicked his eyes up to the demonically cackling foe; his heart freezing in his chest when he saw the man holding Miriam up by the hair, his second hand holding a pistol to her temple.

She looked to Athos pleadingly, her frightened face taking on a deathly pale colour as her hands trembled at the ends of her stiff arms; _no doubt he had instructed her to remain still and silent lest he paint the forest red with the mop of her hair._

"For your sake let her go, do not be a coward and drag a defenceless woman into this" Athos started, a calm tone contrasting his tense appearance.

_Despite his words, Athos knew Miriam could handle herself and was far from the defenceless woman he had defined her as. But playing down her abilities was the safest option right now, and so as far as the man was concerned, she was as weak as a newborn kitten._

"Defenceless, ha! Women are never _defenceless_" the wickedly grinning man called; Athos blinking at him in confusion as he shuffled ever closer in their direction, hand painfully gripping the hilt of his new weapon.

"Whatever your qualms be with the female sex, it does not excuse this outrageously barbaric display of misconduct" Athos retorted formally, hoping to connect with the obvious wit and class radiating off the well dressed man.

His prim and proper style reminded Athos of a comte or a lord, someone he may have once had in his circles if not for that fateful day long ago.

_On second thought, he probably wouldn't have befriended this scum. He may have been an esteemed figure once but that didn't mean he would have ever stooped to such low moral grounds that he might associate with men able to perform such monstrous behaviour as this one did._

"Ever a man of principles, I see" the man teased, gripping Miriams' hair more tightly as his temper grew, and causing her to whimper in pain.

"Listen, just let her go and you have my word I will not kill you -this day" Athos promised coldly, arms outstretched slightly as if to place the dagger down, watching Miriam wearily, her teary eyes tearing up his soul inside.

The man laughed bitterly again, "I think not -musketeer" he growled, relishing in the look of shock Athos responded with when he had mentioned his profession.

Athos' eyes darted around madly, unseeing, as he quickly pieced the puzzle together in his mind; the man seeming to enjoy the spectacle and so he waited by patiently for another witty response.

Glancing up at the man before him again, Athos suddenly recalled glimpsing a man by the same description amidst the ambush he'd had the misfortune of surviving nights ago.

Once cool eyes of blue, now pits of molten lava, Athos glared up at the man standing before him, "_You_" he hissed, pointing the dagger accusingly at the mans' face.

_Oh how he__'__d love to carve that smirk into a more pleasing, permanent look of horror._

"Yes, _me_. Do you remember now?" the man mocked smugly, roughly shoving Miriam to her knees so he could unsheathe his long, silver sword but keep his pistol trained on her head -effectively preventing Athos from attacking.

Miriam cried out as her knees scratched up against the uneven stones, grit and sharpened twigs she been thrown upon; allowing herself to fall forward onto her front to alleviate the pressure.

She noticed Athos taking a step forward at her call of pain; concern on his face once more before painting on a second look of confidence and stopping in his tracks suddenly.

"I remember you" Athos replied coldly, ripping his eyes away from Miriam once he had shared a look of assuredness meant to comfort her, before once more, glaring back to the gleeful man.

"You butchered my men, stole my paper and dragged me across the countryside for endless nights and days, just to retrieve something that was rightfully mine!" the man seethed, all humour now cast aside from his once flippant demeanour.

Athos would have smirked to provoke the man -but resisted the urge to do so, based on Miriams' dangerous position in front of his loaded pistol.

_This was agony._

"A creative twist to the tale, I must say, but a lie none the less" Athos dared, smoothly.

_Those were fighting words if ever there were any. _

He just wanted to get Miriam out of the line from that bullet.

The distraction seemed to do the trick as the mans' face transformed into one of pure rage and diverted his pistol from the back of her head towards Athos' chest.

"You are going to pay _dearly _for your mistakes" the man promised, clicking back the hammer on his pistol as he prepared to shoot.

"Oh and by the way, the names Porter. Do say hello to my comrades waiting down in hell for me, they get ever so lonely" he teased and with that pulled the trigger.

Athos felt himself stumble back.

_There had been nothing he could do, still ten feet away and out of arms reach, Porter hadn__'__t wasted his advantage like so many before him. _

_He__'__d been in control the whole time, using his time wisely, watching over every aspect of the scene that played out before him, tactically plotted out every possible outcome. All but one it seemed…_

Porter _hadn__'__t _expected Miriam to rise up from the floor and dodge into the path of the oncoming bullet intended for his foe; just as Athos had _never _expected her to rip the blade from his hand and hurl it at his assailant.

Both fell down simultaneously, clutching at their wounds protectively as Athos screamed out in peril over Miriam; time standing still as she seemed to float slowly to the floor and land with a earth shattering crash.

Athos stared down in horror at the crimson stains blossoming from her gut as she lay sprawled out on the floor, pawing at her wound in a futile effort to make stop the blood flow.

_Stop_. Athos just wanted it all to stop. _Just wanted to turn back time before the shot could mow her down…before he had even met her -and endangered her…before Porthos had been stabbed. Just please stop _Athos begged silently.

He dropped to his knees by her side, hands hesitating to touch her writhing form of agony as tears stung his eyes, loathe to cause her any more pain as she gasped for breath.

"_Athos_" she whimpered, bloody hand clutching at his and grounding him back into reality.

Their pained eyes met and traded their utmost apologies until Miriam bit her lip and looked away, back arching in agony as waves of pain racked her frame, snapping Athos to his senses.

Leaning forwards, Athos covered her small tender hands with his own, putting as much pressure onto the wound as he dared, her pained scream ripping out the core of his soul out from its foundations.

_How could he let her take the fall!? After _everything _she__ ha__d done for him! For his brothers!…Now she lay shot and dying__…__and it was all _his _fault. _

_Why could he never hold onto the ones he loved? Why must they all suffer endlessly? He thought she__'__d be safe now, that they__'__d got past the worst but he__'__d been wrong, again. _

_He didn__'__t deserve the name '_leader.'_ He hardly knew what he was doing -and if he couldn__'__t protect people, then he didn__'__t deserve the musketeer title. _

_He was a pathetic, useless excuse of a man._

Athos' tears came freely down his cheeks, his breathing becoming staggered as his throat closed up and he gripped at her cold pale hands while her eyes began to lose focus.

"No. no, no, _no_! Stay with me! _Please_! I'm so sorry! I never meant- you should never have- just please, _don__'__t go_!" Athos pleaded, bearing his soul for the world to see if only it would bring her back to him.

A snapping of twigs sounded somewhere behind him and Athos turned his head to see Porter coming at him, grasping at his bloodied breast as he raced over, a look of fury adorning his features.

Athos matched the mans expression and darted to his feet, pulse ringing in his ears and seeing red; looking much like the raging animal he had become as he tore free his humanity and headed to Porter, merciless vibes radiating from his being, his eyes wild as he crashed into the man.

Driving them both to the floor, Athos stood overhead for a moment before barrelling down into the mans somewhat terror stricken face, preparing to rip him limb from limb, with his bare hands if he must.

But Porter wasn't prepared to give up that easily. He was a fighter too, after all.

As Athos came down, he raised his knee up sharply and winded the descending musketeer, forcing him to shake free the tightening grip on his throat and buck him off his front.

Porters' side tugged painfully at the motion but if it was blood he wanted, he was going to have to give a little.

_That was fine by him. He would see this scum dead before the day was out, one way or another._

Rolling away from Porter into a feral crouch, Athos pushed himself up from the dirt just as the man had taken to a standing position and braced for impact.

Athos' fuelled rage knocked him off his feet again and slammed him into the width of a large oak tree, pinning him there so he could deliver numerous hard blows to his face and torso while Porter struggled to block the fiery onslaught.

As a fist smashed its way through his blockade of arms and found his bleeding wound, Porter doubled over in agony, sinking to his knees.

Athos gripped him up by the hair, refusing to let him fall, prepared to slam his brain into the tree.

However, Porter used this new leverage to slam an elbow up into Athos' jaw and knock him senseless, sending them both flying back to the ground.

As Athos lay momentarily stunned and motionless on the ground; eyes rolling in their sockets as his fingers twitched feebly, Porter dragged his own beaten body harshly across the prickly forest floor and over to the dagger he had removed from his side and thrown to the floor.

_His only saving grace now._

Panting as he took a seated position, Athos forced himself up on wobbly knees, his blurring vision forcing him to see double of his foe who lay some feet before him, a new glint to his palm.

_No_! his mind screamed and with a burst of adrenaline, Athos flew into a four 'legged' crawl/run at the assailant; intending to disarm the devil before he could inflict more pain.

But as Athos rained down on the man, Porter thrust his dagger up and they both locked together before landing in a heavy heap before rolling to a stop.

A deathly calm silence overcame the area, pierced only by the panting pains of Miriam as she finally let go of her faculties and let her eyes roll back into her head.

All remained still for a moment as the soft noises of nature came back into play; the insects that called, the far away birds that chirped, the wind that rustled through the trees and the new sunlight that glistened over the dew.

It was eerily peaceful.

Athos sucked in a ragged gasp for air, his body feeling as if it had been doused in oil and set aflame; his muscles feeling as if they had been shredded and his wounds filled with lead, paralysing his limbs and converting them into dead weights as his vision began to blot out at the edges.

Shakily rising his weakening arms, Athos dragged limp hands over his fiery chest, a centre pain sparking up by the bottom of his ribs on his right side, the intense pain almost causing him to lose consciousness.

But he held on.

From somewhere out of his field of vision, Athos could hear renewed movements, but his heavy head and drifting eyes refused to bend to his will and serve his curiosity.

Porter granted Athos' wish as he stepped over his limp frame and into his fading vision; a triumphant grin mixed with slight pain roaming over his smug face as he glided a sword down to his throat from he knew not where.

_Surely this couldn__'__t be the end! Not after everything he__'__d been through!… Perhaps this was his punishment for a life of sins?__…__but then why did Miriam have to die by his side?_

Athos' greying mind began to wander as he looked up at Porter, the man phasing in an out every few seconds, before blurring into three or four men, then returning back to one.

_A demon had many shapes _he mused.

Porter leered down at the defeated man covered in his own blood, looking over to the quiet woman with a smile of satisfaction.

_Finally, he could get his revenge! It had almost cost him dearly but he was sure his wound could be sown after he rode far from this place. These two would die here while he drank merrily -and then he would find this mans' brothers and torture them with stories of their fallen comrade- before he beheaded them too. _

_Life was cruel -to some._

"Any last words, musketeer" Porter sneered, looking down his nose at the man he had known he would best.

"Just one" Athos whispered, remaining still -though his eyes flickered to something just behind the assailant.

But Porter caught the reflection of the darkened figure behind him in the glint of his sword and whipped around just in time for the pistol to discharge and the bullet to sail harmlessly past his shoulder.

From a few paces away, Miriam limply dropped the spent pistol back to the earth and collapsed back to the floor; her head lolling back as her chest heaved in air desperately; continuing her battle against the excruciating pain in her gut as she turned her head sideways from where she lay to meet Athos' teary but proud gaze.

It had taken a while to reach for the pistol and then even longer to check it, aim and fire -and it had all amounted to nothing.

She may not be able to use as sword like Athos had offered her back home, but when you lived on a farm and you were the only woman around, you learnt how to use a gun.

Alas, unfortunately for her, they were dealing with a cunning foe; his past life of intellect and wit saving his worthless animal hide once again.

Miriam felt like crying in anguish.

Porter glared menacingly at the sneaky woman for a moment before allowing his expression to turn into one of amusement; looking back to Athos before to deliver his parting words.

"You can never trust a woman" he muttered, spitting on her dress with distaste and kicking at her legs.

Athos merely continued to glare defiantly up at the man, his slippery fists occupied as he fought to hold in his innards.

Sword back down to Athos' throat, Porter froze to reconsider his intentions, a cruel smile splaying across his pained face.

"No… you know what? You're _too _gallant for this… hurting you would mean nothing" he stated the obvious, mulling over his new plans in his mind before nodding with finality.

" -and since I've already hurt her" he motioned, "-I shall leave you to watch her _die_" he finished icily, eyes burning evilly with joy, drool spitting from his mouth as he bit out the damned words.

_It seemed a fitting enough punishment, _Porter nodded fondly, turning on his heel as he staggered back towards the horses.

_And besides, he needed treatment! It would be hardly fair to bleed out only a field away from his wounds after winning this fight!__…__ He__'__d partially received his revenge anyway. _

_Now what he needed was a bit of stitching, a hearty meal, some wine and the position of this dying mans brothers so he could finish what he__'__d started._

As he watched at the cowardly mans back and take hold of _his _mount, Athos called out with new threats…or at least he tried to…but they came out as more of a slur of curses, thanks to his foggy mind.

The man didn't seem to hear his shouts… either that or he didn't care. And so he mounted his horse and tugged on the reigns of Athos' own stallion; stealing their only means of transport and damning them to this final resting place.

Athos felt his eyes grow hot once more with overwhelming anguish and sorrow, dragging his uncooperative body over to Miriams' side by a pine and cradling her unconscious, bloodied form into his lap.

"I'm sorry… I'm so so _sorry_!" Athos began in a broken whisper, planting a soft kiss onto her mussed, angelic hair.

"I promised to keep you safe …and I _failed_… it was my duty to protect you" he added, voice slurring words together and hoarse with emotion.

Miriam suddenly stirred in his arms and Athos tightened his grip on her.

" 'nd it was my duty to protect you too" she slurred, eyes fluttering open and tilting her head back to face her solider; face so pale yet a smile etched into it none the less as her eyes drifted over to an idle canteen, thinking fondly of the memory.

"We are even" she whispered, offering a bloody smile, causing Athos to grimace and hug her tighter; his brow creasing in torment as tears flowed down his face to wash away some flecks of blood.

Shifting awkwardly, Athos managed to painfully unbuckle the belt from his waist and bring it around her own stomach, tying it as tight as he could into a makeshift tourniquet, hoping to save her still.

Miriam looked pained at his gesture but slid her eyes closed once more to rest.

_He could do nothing more for her__…__they were both doomed to bleed out here and die__…__but at least he got to hold her, if only for a little while._

Athos closes his eyes to the world and took to sleeping by her side -for perhaps the first and last time.

**I really hope you liked it, I found it difficult to sow together in places, especially wondering if I should kill Porter on the spot or not…but I extend my thanks to the inspiration of a friend -you know who you are- and so my plot to became more evil ;D -So he's not done with just yet ;)**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you thought!**


	20. Bonnet

**Thanks for the lovely reviews/follows and faves! You guys make my day when I get alerted to such lovely interaction from my readers *hugs* Oh and btw, we just bordered 110+ pages line, congrats guys! ;D **

**I****'****d give you free drinks on the house but Athos is hoarding them, so here****'****s another chapter instead!**

**-Try listening to: Requiem for a Dream theme song while reading the first part! Its pretty epic**

FLASHBACK- 1 hour

They had been riding for hours in hopes of reaching the farmhouse before darkness but were caught in its wake anyway as it swept across the land to leave the musketeers riding through fields of pitch black; the dark stalks of corn either side of the men, swaying to and froe eerily as if an army were swaggering towards them.

Now they knew how their brothers must have felt, out here all alone, in the dark of night, outnumbered and outgunned, miles from home…

The leader of the retrieval team was a young but seasoned fighter by the name of Monsieur Bonnet, a close and respected brother among the ranks, as they all were.

The way he saw it, they were all just like a stitch in a fine garment; each stitch representing a musketeer of the regiment. Should a stitch ever be torn or undone the rest would soon follow, just as it were among the brothers. _It was that simple._

And so they refused to stop and rest, moving on through the thick of night and the drizzle of rain; forced to pass through the horrific ruins of towns and destroyed homes, their hearts shattering and minds breaking at what awaited them in the dead of night.

Bonnets' outlook grew ever bleaker as their journey continued and was having a hard time keeping his wits about him as his brothers in arms voiced their worries and continued to feed the beast that was their paranoia.

As they passed through what felt like the hundredth blackened cornfield, Bonnet slowed his mount atop a rise alongside his men and raised a gloved hand to his brow, squinting through the onslaught of spitting hail that had been making them all the more miserable for the past half hour, as it invaded every dry crevice of their beings.

Easily making out the golden spirals of flames at the edge of the inky fields ahead, Bonnet called out to his men to remain on high alert as they approached from the side.

_There was no telling what lay in store for them here__…__perhaps their four beloved brothers had perished inside_ Bonnets' mind conjured darkly; his heart in his throat and his ears ringing.

As he motioned his horse into a gallop through the fields ahead, the flattened corn sprang back up to whip at his flanks, spraying icy cold water droplets against his face and pushing back his hat; a brother to his left reaching out to catch it as it tried to fly off into the night.

Bonnet was hardly concerned about uniform at this point, the grim expression on his rugged, scar marked face beginning to take on an orange glow in the light of the fiery tendrils; the warmth doing little to comfort him against the cold as his insides coiled at the thought of the burning bodies that may lie inside.

Dismounting quickly from his saddle, his brothers following suit, Bonnet crashing through the front window of the home; the already cracked and browning glass giving way easily as he stepped onto the burning beams of the floor in the dining room, hopping on his feet as they crackled steadily beneath.

The room was an inferno, too hot to draw breath and too violent to venture any further into the rest of the house.

The walls were consumed by reds and oranges, the china that once lay atop the cabinets now splintered porcelain across the floor; its blue décor ink melting into pools across the wooden beams and burning into a brown froth.

Turning to his left, Bonnet saw that the stairs were a mere wall of fire; each step holding yet another wall and so on so forth while the room beyond freely told him that, should he enter, the splitting roof would crash down on his head.

From where he stood, Bonnet could see the curtains by the window were long since gone and the table and chairs where his friends had most likely lain were now turning to stumps of charcoal.

Bonnet did not dare pass into the next room ahead as the kitchen seemed to warn him of its perilous capacity to dispatch him from this world in the blink of an eye; its deadly collection of heated knives, glasses and pokers ready to fall and make contact with his skin.

Covering his arm across his face against the intensity of the heat swarming him at every angle, Bonnet ducked beneath the gathering smoke to scan the area hastily for bodies.

He counted none…._but then, where were they?_

"Bonnet! Get out of there!" a man called pleadingly at his back, not daring to enter in after him should the place collapse and trap them in a burning pit of miserable agony.

More than happy to comply, Bonnet turned to leave, tripping back out over the smouldering window sill and falling to his hands and knees on the damp grass outside coughing for all he was worth as he dragged in fresher air; his men by his side in an instant, patting his back and raising him to his feet.

_No, they were more than men, they were brothers, family _Bonnet corrected, dragging a glove across his sweaty face with a sniff and dusting the blackened soot that had clung to his hair.

_But some of his family were still missing__…__still out there, somewhere he knew not _Bonnet surmised sadly as he peered back up and out into the fields around him; the rain continuing to beat heavily down upon his shoulders -hissing against the heated fabric of leathers he wore.

"I've got a body over here" a broken call rang out, each mans' head twisting over to the rise a short way from the home on a grassy hill where their brother stood over a corpse.

Racing over to his side, trying his best not to slip in the wet grass, Bonnet knelt down over the cloak and took a deep breath.

The form protruding underneath was slight, but fires had a way of diminishing structures and reducing size and shape like no other force on earth. _This could be who they were looking for__…__their brother._

Bonnet gulped and set his face into stone, gripping the edges of the charred musketeers blue cloak and abruptly ripping it back.

No one had been prepared to witness the slightly charred and almost completely blue face of a dead woman; it was not fresh to say the least and the natural visitors of death had already begun their work on her body.

Bonnet recoiled from the scene instinctively, gloved hand clasped over his mouth against both the sight and smell while his stomach rolled dangerously.

_Only in this line of work would your experiences haunt your dreams._

"It's not them" he informed the men behind him, dry throat choking him slightly from the smoke he'd inhaled and the relief that swarmed his being.

_They could still be alive!_

"You men, I want a grave dug and this poor soul buried" Bonnet instructed, "Any of you who know the proper religious sentiments should move forth now to put this woman to rest" he added, frown on his face as he was reminded of Aramis' usual involvement in these spectacles.

Shaking his head lightly, raindrops flying from the ends of his damp hair, Bonnet slowly descended back down the small rise, passing one of his brothers who returned him his hat before continuing on his way to dig a grave for the woman.

The next few minutes passed in gloomy silence as the grave was dug; each musketeer placing his hat to his chest and suffering at the onslaught of the rain as their brother read the woman towards heaven.

When it was over, the men moved back to their horses, preparing to turn back the way they had come and settle somewhere for the night.

They would need to plan a new mission come dawn tomorrow to develop a new route to pursue their brothers -whilst somehow regrettably informing Treville over the second disappearance of his dear men.

A short ride back into the fields, a man among the musketeers suddenly cried out that he had found something worthy of the leaders attention.

Reigning his mount to a halt, Bonnet turned back a ways to the calling musketeer; brows raising in curiosity as his man pointed towards a dark patch of trampled grass that split two ways.

"It's a trail" the man eagerly informed his temporary captain, "-they must have split up…one heads back to the farm and three head over yonder" he added, pointing roughly in the dark to a row of trees outlining the dark meadow.

Bonnets' brow wrinkled into consideration over the new information, _this could either be their brothers …or it was a few straggling assailants -the ones responsible for that fire._

_But there had been no bodies in the home__…__that he could see__…_Bonnet pondered; conflicted over his decisions.

He decided to share his thoughts with his brothers waiting abreast in the darkness, "Okay, lets say in the case that these tracks _are _in fact our comrades, then we must pursue them without fault…However, if they lead to armed men, then they _must _be taken in without question" he instructed, preparing them for the final announcement, his tone heightening.

"We must split up to find them. I _know _what you're thinking, but it offers the most productive means by which we may find them faster" Bonnet argued against conflicted stares, some men shaking their heads visibly to show their frustration.

"I will lead a five man team after the lone rider, the rest of you seven I want following the three tracks. With these odds we should be able to aid or withstand whoever lies on the end of them" he comforted, gazing at each man through the rain and doing his best to instil a sense of confidence.

_He was new to this __'__leader__'__ thing__…__in fact, he__'__d only got the promotion because Athos himself wasn__'__t there to lead the party. _

Unable to decline such a high responsibility, Bonnet had relented under Trevilles' unnervingly pleading looks and risen to the temporary rank of lieutenant -or captain over the men out in the field.

_They hadn__'__t seemed to mind -until now._

"I don't know when we will be able to rejoin forces again so make sure you share out the supplies evenly" Bonnet warned, wisely.

"I reckon we should do our best to regroup a day or so from now, back at the second pile of ruins we saw earlier in that valley. They are the most distinguishable feature out here -and I know you all have honed skills at geography" he teased lightly, earning a slight chuckle from his men.

Happy to have raised their spirits, Bonnet gave a final nod of approval and turned his horse towards the lone trail; his men quickly exchanging supplies before setting off on their new missions, prepared for anything- or so they thought.

It took yet another hours ride and another twenty minute stumble through a slowly dawning forest for Bonnets' eyes to finally catch on something worth of notice -and it struck his heart cold.

There lying against a large tree lay two slumped, pale and bloodied figures in the half light; their hands intertwined and bodies leaning into one another limply as if in death.

Eyes widening in both dread and alarm at the recognition of Athos' face, Bonnet flew from his horse and quickly barked orders over his shoulder to a single man, rushing over to kneel by their motionless sides as his other brothers came to loom over his back should he need assistance.

_This did not look good. It was a horrifying prospect to say the least__…__looking at the spectacle only made it worse._

Bonnet pulled desperately at the fingers of his gloves, removing one hand so it would be free to feel the most subtle of movements.

He cautiously placed a hand under Athos' drooped head and wormed his fingers in against his neck, _finally _reaching his target so he may detect a pulse.

At the slightest touch, Athos' red rimmed eyes flew open, his fist shooting up and gripping Bonnets' wrist, preventing further movement.

The wild look in his brothers eyes had instantly set Bonnet on edge; his brothers reflexes acting as if he had expected a knife to the throat -while the intense gaze he was receiving, from his usually stoic and calm friend, told him that a tragedy had occurred here.

_They had been too late to stop it apparently _he noted guiltily, looking at the pools of blood and churned up ground.

Bonnets' feelings were conflicted as he tried to suppress the joy brewing up inside of him at the sight of Athos alive and breathing- despite the fatal appearance of his wounds which now bled sluggishly against his clenched fist.

_He needed to remain calm and impassive in moments like these _Bonnet recalled his training_, don__'__t let your emotions show__…__keep the ball in your court, _the phrases just kept flying into his mind.

Bonnet removed his wrist from his brothers' grip to place a firm, reassuring hand on his shoulder, "Don't worry, we're here for you brother. You're safe now" Bonnet coaxed, his nerves tingling with a mixture of emotions as Athos slowly seemed to realize the man before him was not a threat but a saviour.

In fact, Athos seemed so relieved that he let out a broken chuckle, the sound barely a whisper but stopping just as quickly as a pain filled expression overcame his face.

Bonnet looked down once more to the bloodied wound on his brothers' side and motioned for one of his men, with cleaner hands to apply pressure and cloth he'd had stored in his saddle bags while he reviewed the woman.

She would have seemed peaceful enough, sleeping in his brothers arms if not for the bloody hole in the centre of her dress; the entire bottom half of her once white nightgown stained a gruesome crimson.

Placing delicate fingers to her neck, Bonnet gladly noted that she too remained alive, barely.

_They must seek better shelter and medical aid _he deduced quickly, stepping back to let his friend tend them as best he could, Athos' clouded gaze meeting his wearily as if in question for commands.

_Ever the solider__…__.he must be completely out of reality _Bonnet realized unhappily, as he broke sight with the haunted looks he was receiving the glance towards the two dead brutes lying a few feet away.

_It was very odd that there were no horses though _he pondered absently, leaning slightly around the trees to survey the silent area better. _He would make sure to ask Athos about it later when he was recovering._

Thinking about recovery set Bonnets mind ablaze with new mission incentives, gathering his wits about him and setting about a course of action; aiding his men in moving their friend and his lady up from the ground as gently as they could and doubling up on horse back.

Wasting no time on the urgency now required of them, the musketeers and their precious cargo quickly left the forested area and ventured back out into the sunlit meadows; doing their best to ride swiftly and avoid any large bumps or ruts lest they harm their friends further.

Heading off back into the direction from whence they had come, Bonnet began to hope the rest of his brothers had been so lucky in finding the rest of their comrades so quickly -and alive and well for that matter.

It was to their great fortune that they had become lost on a trail -having missed their tracks thanks to the rain and mud- as it was at that moment a passing horse and cart veered around the corner of a field, friendly farmer at the helm to offer the pleading men a safe house for their badly injured comrades.

Only a short way down the dirt path, a hidden outcropping in a field revealed a small home and barn; the homestead completely shielded from view by the tall trees that grew intermittently through the giant crops and closed off the home from sight.

Alarmed by the group of strangers lining their front lawn, the woman of the household came stumbling out onto the front lawn wielding a frying pan menacingly; her three young children clinging behind her billowing dress shyly.

The middle aged farmer; whom had bluntly introduced himself to the musketeers by the name of Alf, quickly tended to his wife and informed her of the dire circumstances.

_It seemed like a lot of people were on high alert towards strangers lately _Bonnet acknowledged with a disapproving frown. _He knew why they were so weary._

The woman had profusely apologized to the shying riders when she'd been informed; removing her frying pan from their faces and ushering a few towards the barn so they may stable their horses while her husband, Bonnet and a fellow musketeer carried the wounded inside to a large double bed upstairs.

It was a cozy enough establishment with wide open areas for children to play and create their own wild fantasies.

Athos managed a friendly smile at a young girl peering around the doorframe at him as he was escorted to a bedside; her hair trussed up high and strange attire made up of blankets and shiny objects suggesting that she played the part of a damsel alongside her brothers, the humorous thought bringing Athos a wave of nostalgia as he thought back to when he and his brother did very much the same thing when they were young.

Pain racked his body as he tried to fold onto the bed, his legs giving way as the room began to swim off its axis.

But he was held aloft by his ever present brothers, their arms under his shoulders as the placed him as gently as they could on the bed, feeling rather than seeing Miriam placed at his side.

"Do you 'ave the necessary stuff" a familiar voice slurred overhead, his face drooping as if it were paint running off a canvas.

Athos blinked rapidly, trying to restore his vision and did his best to hear through the roaring in his ears.

"I'll fetch it" a strange voice replied, its tone becoming much to deep for a human as Athos began to drift of into a world living at a much slower paced than theirs.

"Keep pressure on thwoun" the words began to string together as Athos' bed seemed to levitate, the world flipping in on its self. Like a damned nightmare.

All of a sudden a blinding pain shot out from his side, dragging a moan from his lips and reflexively causing him to shy away from the pressure, arms flailing weakly.

_It was agony, why couldn__'__t it just stop._

Athos heard soothing voices from somewhere above him, a fuzzy outline seeming the brush the hair back on his head.

Ignoring the gesture, Athos turned his head to his right to stare over at his pale friend, her dark circled eyes, bluish lips and unmoving body with shallow breath making her appear as if death itself.

Athos cried out frantically as he realized no shadows loomed over her as they did for him.

_What did that mean? Why was no one helping?_

His struggles were in vain as he felt himself being pushed back to the softness beneath, a second stab of pain being all it took to remove him of his strength and leave him paralysed.

As renewed footsteps entered the room in a shuffle Athos felt his vision beginning to blot out, he had to fight, had to resist…but what was the point if she had died and his brothers were gone…he was worthless without them…

And so he let his eyes flutter shut and let the hands touch him, inspecting, roving, pressing, prodding until a third wave of pain flared up and suddenly Athos felt no more.

**Sorry for the random oc, I tried my best to find a name for a musketeer in the regiment but my research proved fruitless and so I translated to word ****'****good man****'**** lol****…**

**I know this chapter was more of a filler -but I had to explain or give some (relieving) closure as to Athos/Miriams****'**** predicament****…****even if they don****'****t pull through ):D**

**Please leave a review and let me know what you thought! Until next time!**


	21. Mind Aflame

**I****'****m starting to think i should have called this story ****'****fire****'**** or burning flame with a double meaning...im not a pyro honest but damn i seemed to have burnt down every place in this virtual world...did i mention this chapter has fire in it? **

**I will be back at 8pm to proofread/edit this…I just didn't want to make you guys wait that long, so im sorry if there are glaring errors in this- I will fix and re-upload later!**

**Warning, this chapter contains mature subject matter involving a violent death, you may see it coming so if you don****'****t want to read it, I understand, just skip over it. Sorry if you find it offensive/cruel, I just intend to write this as a story, not scar another persons life.**

**Try listening to: Love to Change the World- Jetta**

Flashback- 1 hour

_Smoke? Why did he smell smoke?_

D'artagnan looked up from his place beside his limp brother and swivelled his head around the room, searching for new threats.

_No fire__…__.but where there was smoke__…__Perhaps he should investigate, but what about Porthos? -and Aramis? Now _both _of his brothers were out of commission._

D'artagnan looked back down to Aramis who was slumped against the wall, his cheeks becoming noticeably pale under his permanent Spanish tan, eyes more hollowed with each precious droplet of blood that leaked from his skin.

_He hadn__'__t fully managed to stop the bleeding and now there was smoke__…_

D'artagnan clumsily got to his feet, bracing himself against a wall when his head spun from the blood that rushed up through unhindered bent legs, spinning the room dangerously.

Shaking his head from the cobwebs that shrouded his vision, D'artagnan used his new heightened position to do a second cursory check of his surroundings; noting each motionless body, each broken piece of furniture, each yellow flicker of light through the steaming drapes by the door.

_Fire_!

_But how!? The men were all dead! But what if more had come?!_

D'artagnans' mind suddenly sucked him back into his memories as he recalled the destroyed and burning towns he'd had to pass through on his journey to find his brothers. Those homes had stood like this one too once, now it was following in their proverbial footsteps.

Heart in his throat, ribs heaving for air, D'artagnan placed his shaking palm against the supportive beam that stood in the room, hoping to take a second to clear his mind and compose himself. But when his eyes drooped to notice the base of the beam scarlet in colour, those thoughts returned with a vengeance.

_There would be no rest so long as they were in this house. But there was nowhere else to go!_

With an anxious look over to Aramis, D'artagnan debated whether or not it would be best to combat this fire or try to drag both of his brothers and the weeping man from the home, to safety.

_Actually, where was the fellow? _

D'artagnan glanced around quickly; guilt washing over him as he realized he hadn't bothered to acknowledge the disappearance of Arthur from the room until now.

_His wife still lay on the floor where she had died__…__so _where _was Arthur?_

Suddenly an infinitesimal click sounded behind D'artagnan; his knees locking in both shock and fear at the familiar sound that warned of death on swift wings.

Daring to turn around and face the foe, D'artagnan slowly turned; making sure to keep his arms away from his body in an act of obedience.

_They didn__'__t need three dying musketeers under one roof in the space of only a few hours._

D'artagnan felt the pit of his stomach rip out when he spotted Arthur pointing a pistol at him; the mans violently shaking form, trembling arms and anguished, tear streaked face glaring up at him as if he were the enemy here.

_Had he lost his mind? _

D'artagnan supposed he had.

The death of a loved one had the ability to turn people into something hideous and monstrous. It was not always the case, as it often let people withering away in a bottle, much like his brother Athos at times. But in this case, it seemed that Arthur was determined to go about this the wrong way and blacken his soul for eternity.

Before D'artagnan could offer a word of caution or condolence the man jerked the pistol at him dangerously, spittle mixing with tears as he screamed brokenly at the boy, flames rising at his back.

"You _killed _her! You got my _wife _killed!" he balled, face screwed up tightly in anguish, the deep wrinkles in his weathered face guiding his tears to drip down and soak his worn shirt anew.

D'artagnans eyes flitted over to Aramis in reaction to the mans' accusation.

_So that__'__s what Aramis had been mumbling about! But there had been nothing they could do! It was too late! He should know by now that they couldn__'__t save everyone _D'artagnan finished darkly.

Raising his hands high in self defence, D'artagnan took a cautious step forwards, "I swear, I did _nothing _to your wife."

"Yes! You did! You came to my house! She took you in -and _I _cared for your man… and now…now she's…_dead_" he cried brokenly, his words becoming ever more choked as he raised a small fist to his head and tore at the whisps of white hair.

D'artagnan tried to reason with himself at the mans' harsh words.

_They _had _been taken in, _had _been cared for, _had _brought their brother back to health__…__had brought with them armed men__…__and _not _protected them, had _not _saved her, had _ruined _Arthur__…_

D'artagnan felt the physicality's of guilt creep up his back and weigh down on his shoulders, his stomach twisting with regret and shame, hands descending to wring their each other with guilt.

D'artagnan cast his eyes to the floor, no longer able to hold the mans' gaze…_he was right after all. They had killed his innocent, caring, nurturing wife. Taken her from him and burning down his land._

_They did more harm than good._

D'artagnan felt tears welling in his eyes, tears he knew he didn't deserve to let spill and so he hold them back and dragged in breath, trying to steady his quaking shoulders as the man sobbed out harsh breaths before him.

_Perhaps they should end it here. This whole journey had been one bad thing after another. First Porthos, then Athos, now Aramis and the whole time innocent civilians were being slaughtered at their expense. _

_They weren__'__t Musketeers, they were Murderers__'__._

D'artagnan felt the musket lower slightly from his bowed head, noticing it though his blurred vision as it hung into his field of vision.

"Take the shot" D'artagnan stated sadly, arms opening wide, "Go on, do it."

There was still nothing, no sound of acknowledgment.

D'artagnan squeezed his eyes shut, his shoulders hunching and tense as he waited for the searing pain.

Would he feel it if it were a deathblow? Would he still feel it when the place burnt down around him? Or would it all just be over in a flash? And what came afterwards? Would he see his father again? Probably not….now he was damned to hell, how could he not be.

D'artagnan felt his wits float from his body as his sense of awareness abandoned him and dark, sorrowful thoughts consumed his mind.

And so, D'artagnan was not aware of Arthur as he lowered his gun completely, an anguished expression crossing his now drained face as he stared down in compassion towards the miserable young man before him; guilt creeping into his broken frame as he realized the agony he had bestowed upon the shoulders of an innocent boy, barely out of his youth.

_About the same age of his youngest son__…__how could he wipe him from the earth?_

The answer was simple, he couldn't.

_The boy didn__'__t deserve this, he had been wrong and cruel in his accusations, driven by blinding rage and grief as he were__…__but he saw a new answer now, one that wouldn__'__t allow anyone else to get hurt._

Arthur looked down at his pistol longingly and then over to his bloody wife.

_He would see her again. He couldn__'__t live without her by his side, night and day for years on end. He would never love again, his heart would always be with her._

Arthur hesitantly turned this pistol on himself and raised it to fire; making sure to look ahead at the boy to gain confidence in his decision; _he would not lose his nerves as the damning object loomed ever closer._

After so long a silence, D'artagnans' eyes drifted upwards and saw a new, much more horrifying spectacle before him.

Arthur had a pistol raised to his temple, his hand outwards to stop the boy, head shaking from side to side with a sad smile on his face.

"I am sorry for my words of woe, I meant none of them… Now it is time for me to leave this place, you must save your friends, son" Arthur whispered, a single tear sliding down his winkled old face.

And he pulled the trigger…falling from grace and leaving the world behind.

D'artagnans' mouth hung agape, arms frozen and locked in their outreaching position as Arthur floated to the floor, smile on his face, unseeing eyes level with his dead wife a few feet away. _Together again._

The world fell inwards as the flames rose around, like the pit of hell itself, with a young boy trapped in its centre, tormenting ghosts circling, looming ever closer, snatching away pieces of his aging soul as more and more images passed through his head.

_Death, the dying the unstoppable terrors, the nightmares, his father, his brothers._

D'artagnan sagged heavily to his knees, unable to cry, expression one of stunned silence as his mind raged up a storm and threatened to crack and burst through his skin as it shattered his mind into pieces.

He looked over to Aramis in the crackling fire light, still motionless and pale, but safe from these new horrors. D'artagnan thought of Porthos above them, his sick brother trying to recover in a world that endlessly spewed hate and filth.

_He might deserve this fate, but they didn__'__t. He couldn__'__t leave them to die here with him._

And so, D'artagnan rose to his feet, peering through shadows of the dead as he shuffled over to Aramis by the wall; his whole body numb as he gripped his brothers bloody jacket and heaved him up and over his shoulder before stumbling over to the burning door and out into the cool night air.

The single tree out front now flickered in the darkness, the light of the flames showing two sides to its reality, one of night, darkness, death…the other of light, day and hope.

_Porthos_.

D'artagnan slowly lowered Aramis to the floor, disregarding the pained sigh that escaped the man as he dropped him a final foot; his shattered mind unable to consider every element of his movements.

He didn't really want to leave Aramis here, _wounded as he was and at the mercy of the elements -and other possible attackers__…__but there was no choice, he _needed _to rescue Porthos._

D'artagnan stumbled back towards the burning home, boots catching on the smallest of ruts and then beams of the interior, his legs refusing to work properly as his body reluctantly followed the broken commands of his ever drifting mind.

Everything moved slowly around D'artagnan as he clunked up the stairs, the flames following with each footstep as if to curl a comforting arm around his shoulders and offer him peace of mind, luring him to its depths.

But he could not abandon his tasks. _No matter what he felt inside, he was loyal to his brothers__…__or he tried to be__…__he would no leave Porthos to his fate._

Turning the heated doorknob, D'artagnan staggered into the room, bending low under the suffocating smoke to find Porthos on the floor as if he'd struggled from his bed to lie panting deeply with a gun held aloft limply in his hand and his eyes barely open as he tried to raise it to his 'attacker.'

D'artagnans mind briefly considered the idea of charging Porthos and meeting his end, knowing he would pull the trigger in his confused state.

_But that would damn his brother, and that he could not allow._

"Porthos" D'artagnan stuttered, allowing his small voice to dredge up recognition in his brothers broken mind. He could speak no words of comfort, he would not be able to utter any sentiments of peace. _Peace didn__'__t exist, it was just a word._

Porthos' brow furrowed in concentration, his eyes widening slightly as a glint of recognition shone through them, "D'art" he croaked, lowering the pistol to the floor with a clunk.

D'artagnan swept over to his brother and struggled to raise him to his feet, a shoulder under his brothers' left arm and his right hand around his waist to tug him to his body, he quickly turned to the flaming bedroom door.

_No way out. Had he been too late, again? Why did fate taunt him so? Perhaps it was a sign__…__perhaps he was meant to die tonight, alongside his brothers__…_

D'artagnan couldn't accept it, shaking his head as his eyes caught the shimmering glint of the broken glass of the window.

_Escape_! his tired mind called out.

Straining to keep his witless brother aloft as he dragged them over across the floor to the window, D'artagnan sluggishly punched out the remaining shards; his flesh slicing up in the process though he barely felt a thing.

Turning his back to the window and hugging his confused brother to his chest, D'artagnan let himself fall backwards; their combined weight -aided by gravity- completing the rest of the daring manoeuvre and pulling them out into the night air, past the rising flames and plunging them down into its depths.

The flaming bushes did little to soften the blow as Porthos' full weight crushed down onto D'artagnan; smothering the fire from his face but also stealing his oxygen.

The intense heat had been enough for D'artagnan to deal with and now an immense weight -of what felt like a boulder- was pressing down against his ribs, squeezing the very life right out of him.

_It was like lying in a coffin that had already been buried in the burning pits of hell, this night was almost the worst night of his life__…__the day he had lost his father had been the worst._

Wriggling out painfully from under the weight, D'artagnan gasped for air as he freed first his own body from the flaming bush before dragging Porthos' fiery body out after him and across to his other brothers' still form and eagerly beating at their flames with Aramis' bloodied bandana until they had burnt out.

With their bodies singing from the after effects of the flames, D'artagnan dropped to the ground and took in the sight around him.

The dead men, his limp brothers, the burning home…Arthur lying in the doorway…

D'artagnan shivered, his numbed body beginning to feel what he had just lived through; tears finally escaping his eyes and streaming down his face as he howled into the night.

Eventually, after what felt like a lifetime of woes, anguish and screaming into the night, D'artagnan shuffled over to inspect his limp brothers and press against any wounds -new or old- that they had acquired.

He didn't know how to move forward from this D'artagnan thought absently as he peeled back a bandage on Porthos' side to check for infection. How was he supposed to raise two men from the brink of death and carry them across miles of farmland back to Pairs? It was obvious that he could not…so what next? A slow death.

D'artagnan slammed his fist into the dirt by his side as the plausible thought assaulted his aching mind. _After everything they__'__d been through together!_

Suddenly, the rattapan clatter of hoof beats began to rumble distantly in the night air, alerting D'artagnan to new oncoming riders.

D'artagnans' once hopeless demeanour began to boil into a rage, his fists clenched and teeth grit as he stood to his feet and braced himself in the dirt, feet firmly planted either side of him, drawing his sword from its sheath as he faced the blackness.

_So, the rest of the assailants had come back to finish them off had they? Done with Athos and now back for more? Well he wouldn__'__t give up easily! They would __**pay **__for this!_

_He would fight to the death for his brothers__…__and it looked like he would get his wish by the sound of many hooves approaching._

D'artagnan eyed the darkness, wondering if he should circle around and attack them from behind, mulling it over in his mind as he continued to stand his ground, flames now at his back.

It was _lucky _D'artagnan hadn't thought to find his pistol to shoot at the riders… for it was in fact his brothers in arms that rode towards him through the night, prepared to rescue their men from the flames yet completely unprepared for the battle their youngest was readying for them upon their arrival.

But as any warrior knew, weapons came in all shapes and sizes…and fists, swords and a raging mind were just as deadly as anything else…especially when used in the darkness of night.

**I don****'****t know how I felt about that chapter****…****rather guilty, depressed****…****I don****'****t know. I hope you guys aren****'****t finding the angst/whump to repetitive, I seem to have nailed every single character with it now-which was not my intention. I hope its not taking away from the believability of the plot line.**

**Let me know what you thought of it, I****'****d really like to know if I****'****ve overstepped a boundary on this one (with suicide) and I****'****ll fix it if its too much. I shall update again tomorrow. Until then, bye for now****…**


	22. If There Is A Light -Don't Let It Go Out

**So I knew I would get mixed responses for the last chapter -so I tried to make this chapter funny and fluffy! **

**I hope it****'****s a nice change from my seeming attraction to hopeless misery over the past few chapters -im drawn to write darkness, action and humour (a strange combination)… so I****'****ll try to find more of the light now! **

**I listened to: On top of the world -Imagine Dragons for the first half & Song for Someone- U2 for the last half. **

**Try it? They****'****re both good with atmosphere and suit the plot very well!**

**Enjoy!**

Athos awoke to a room filled with streaming rays of sunlight; their colourful ribbons bouncing off the cool, peach surfaces of the room to sparkle against the glass windows and warm up each smooth surface within.

Stilling his shifting movements under the soft white linens, Athos took a moment to listen intently to the hushed voices sounding below and faintly detect the twittering sounds of nearby birds -whom he noticed with the slight turn of his head, had perched themselves upon the open window sill to his left; their beautiful songs bringing forth the late summer afternoon.

It was then that a burst of fresh air swept in through the room; its' lilac scent gliding across the breeze to rifle the covers that lay draped over his body, its magnificent aroma causing Athos to question if he'd _actually _made it to heaven.

Athos' increasingly optimistic attitude faded, however, when he turned his heavy head back towards the right of the room and spied Miriam by his side; her pale, motionless figure interrupting the calmness of the moment as the thick bandages peeked out about her midsection and roughly reminded him of their most horrific memory together, yet.

Sliding a weak arm up from under the half-pulled covers and moving it aside for support, Athos gently began to turn his entire body onto its side; a pained groan escaping his lips as the new stitches -that he only vaguely remembered receiving the night before- tugged sharply against his skin.

Despite the dull stabbing pains, Athos made a mental note to thank their saviours below when he noticed Miriam taking a long, peaceful sigh from her place beside him; his mood drastically improving in an instant as he graciously thanked the gods above that she had made it through to the other side, with him.

Daring to wake her -if not only to see her beautiful, green, jaded eyes- Athos moved his left hand towards her face and cupped the smooth texture of her cheek; relishing in the moment as she instinctively leaned into his touch, a few strands of dark hair falling about her brow as she tilted her head to the side .

Brushing away the strands so he may appreciate the full extent of Miriams' lovely features, Athos allowed himself to finally revel in this moment of blissful peace.

_They were safe again. No more looking over their shoulders, living out in the harsh environment, hunting down meals -and in this case, tending to their wounds._

Long extinguished hope rose in Athos' chest and filled his body with warmth, the action provoking a deep sigh of both happiness and relief.

A second breeze blew in from the window -and with it- a cherry blossom floated into the room; swirling over the chestnut dressers by the walls and spiralling down into the creases of their sheets at his knees.

Bending carefully, so as to not further aggravate his 'touchy' side, Athos delicately picked up the pink blossom and leant back against his pillows to study it.

_Perhaps _this _flower should be the symbol for their__…well, whatever they were becoming…__it seemed fitting as it had arrived during a moment of joy filled peacefulness after all__…_

Athos' tired mind suddenly broke into his thoughts to remind him of the not so peaceful -and rather unsettling- questions regarding the whereabouts of his brothers, and this not so new, dangerous assailant by the name of _Porter_.

His heart beginning to slug painfully in his chest, Athos struggled to draw breath at the prospect of his brothers, lying in the path of an unsuspecting danger while he lay here pathetically and _slept_.

_So selfish! How could I have slept knowing such circumstances! _Athos berated himself, removing his hand from Miriams' face as he attempted to shuck the covers from his body; fully intending to greet their host downstairs and ask him for the fastest, safest route to Paris -so he may find reassurance in seeing his brothers' smiling faces once more.

However, when you had fifteen stitches in your side and half a bottle of wine -plus some laudanum- running through your system, the task at hand would prove to be more than a _little _difficult for anybody to accomplish. This included Athos.

Although Athos was unaware of his medical treatment, his body soon informed him of his 'up to date' status as his sluggish, weakened body constantly caught itself up in the folding and twisting of sheets; and the harder he pulled to break free the harder it became to escape the evil knots.

_Eventually_, Athos succeeded in freeing himself from the chain of sheets -alas his moment of triumph was bitter sweet- as his momentum threw him from his place on the bed to drop him hard against the floor and tear a surprised yelp from his throat as his heels flew over his head and he landed on his bottom.

A loud snort from the bedside quickly drew Athos' attention over to the very much awake Miriams -the woman of which appeared to be in a state of barely hidden hysterics.

Though she had woken with confusion and worrisome thoughts towards this unfamiliar setting, she had quickly found comfort -and humour- in silently watching her favourite soldier, through slitted eyes, grunt and whine at the 'blasted sheets' before tumbling out of bed entirely and causing the funniest look of surprise and annoyance to plaster across his face as he sat there dumbly.

Miriam continued to snort at his expense as he carefully shuffled to his knees and then to his feet; she was doing her best to suppress her cackles at this point, hoping to allow him the tiniest sliver of dignity as he moved back over to her side in his skewed briefs; an expression of resignation crossing his features-though the slightest hint of amusement shone through the smirk hiding beneath his trimmed moustache.

"It was just like the carrots all over again" Miriam giggled good naturedly; trying her best to keep her mind in this happy place -and off of the fact that those carrots, that field and her home were no longer a part of her life.

Her fading smile returned to a full beam however as Athos tripped over a strewn sheet and almost flew full force at her face, righting himself with a pained humph of annoyance at the last minute and then glaring down at the linens as if they were white snakes in need of killing.

Athos shook his head indignantly at Miriams remark as he plopped back down onto their bed and cautiously bent over to shove his pathetically, uncoordinated limb ends into his idle boots.

"That was _nothing _like the carrot 'scene'" Athos floundered moodily, deciding to follow in her footsteps towards a lighter minded territory.

_They didn__'__t _need _to talk about what had just happened. They had both witnessed it in real time and neither of them wanted any grim reminders. _

_Just one step forward at a time and no looking back. They would make it _Miriam speculated confidently, her absent mind leading her slender fingers to trace small swirling lines across Athos' toned back; his frame stiffening slightly at the ticklish shivers she was causing him.

"Would you kindly stop doing that, Miriam" Athos ordered rather than questioned, his back twitching nervously once more and reflexively jerking him away from his boots, _again_.

_He was trying to tie them, damn it! He could hardly do it with her driving his body wild!_

Miriam smirked mischievously behind his back as she sat herself up gently, allowing her to free both hands and continue her ministrations, double fold.

Athos jerked back once more and began to twist backwards, intending to reprimand her frustrating actions, again.

But Miriam was having none of it and as Athos turned around, she flung a pillow full force into his waiting face, almost socking him back onto the floor -had his hand not shot out to the nearby chair to catch himself.

"Miriam!" Athos hissed quietly, scowl dominating his features as he pushed himself back into a steady position and rubbed idly at his tender side.

Miriams' eyes drifted to his her soldiers' injury and felt her body immediately flood with guilt and regret, a hand cupping her open mouth as her brow creased in concern; her teasing demeanour done with as she reached out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

"Oh, im so sorry! I didn't mean-"

Athos sighed and cut her off, "No, its alright. My fault" he grumbled by way of apology, tense frame relaxing under her warm hand.

Miriams' expression took on one of confusion and further pity as she came to understand the double meaning in his words.

"No, Athos. It was _not _your fault" she stressed, voice slurring slightly.

_It seemed they could not avoid the dreaded topic any longer._

Athos' cool blues slowly drifted back to meet hers as he swivelled slightly on the bed, so they may lean towards one another.

"Miriam-" Athos began, eyes shooting to the floor in shame as a sense of pleading entered his tone.

"No" Miriam interrupted defiantly, shaking her head from side to side vigorously as she refused to hear the speech through which he would lay all blame on his already heavily burdened shoulders.

"But-" he began, eyes now addressing her with urgency.

Miriam closed her eyes and stuck her nose in the air, childishly.

_She wished she__'__d known his full name so she could scold him like the child he was being._

"I shall ignore you _completely _should you stubbornly persist on ensuing this trail of thought, Monsieur Athos" Miriam attempted formally, trying to best to 'out do' him at his often smug and witty retorts.

Athos sighed in defeat, looking away as Miriam cheered a victory, internally.

The victory didn't last long as she felt guilt welling up again at the sad expression he now sported on his handsomely rugged face.

"Well this simply wont do" Miriam huffed comically, dragging Athos' attention back over to her highly dramatized gestures that seemed to mock the wealthy, "-heroes who get the woman are supposed to be happy!…not whatever this is" she finished flippantly, tussling his ever entangled, wild hair and beaming at the look of shock on his features.

_Oh how she loved to disarm this man!_

Athos coughed nervously into his fist and ducked his blushing face away from her eyes as he secretly reeled at her second, mind blowing confession.

_Heroes who get the woman? He was no hero! And since when did he get this woman!? _

_He knew they__'__d shared a kiss, accepted he'd felt some deep stirrings for her and then had _somehow _gained her trust__…__but he had never taken a moment to consider that he had __'__got this woman.__'_

_So when had _that _happened?! _

_Admittedly, she _had _hinted to their budding relationship numerous times before__…__ but she had also _never _put it so bluntly!_

"Er, well, I -er- have a lot on my mind!" Athos blundered, hastily, feeling much too out of depth around all of the ongoing flirting techniques she seemed so determined to pose on him without so much as a warning or reason for that matter.

_Hang on…had she even been flirting?...or had he fabricated the whole thing?! He couldn't respond even if she had but how would he tell in future?_

Athos knew he was losing his head over such simple matters again and took to a long sigh of exasperation.

Flicking a nervous glance up towards Miriam, Athos caught her beaming at him again and his body began to automatically respond to her radiance -as it had many times before when he had so easily labelled her as _his_.

_No! He would not act! _

_He had done so much to harm her, he had been a _fool _to willingly lead her on as he had before__…__he had been too hasty to see her as his. He could hardly trust his own head any more, so how could he trust his heart?_

Despite the negative thoughts spilling throughout his brain, Athos felt warmth pooling in his gut as his chest tightened at her confession, forcing him to breathe more shallowly while his heart rate sped up.

Throat feeling strangely dry all of a sudden, Athos was forced to cough once more.

_She__'__ll think you__'__re coming down with a measly cold if you keep coughing like that! _Athos groaned inwardly, trying to hide his flushed cheeks once more as he faked a yawn.

"And what exactly _is _on your mind, soldier?" she questioned huskily, biting her lip intentionally and looking him over with an obvious longing.

_Okay, so that had to be a flirtatious hint, right?!_

_But why!?_

_What the hell was up with her lately!? No restrain all of a sudden? _Surely, _she hadn__'__t been like this when he had first met her__…__of course it had been dark and his mind elsewhere -but she had been thoughtful, kind, soothing__…__not whatever bipolar mood swing that was overcoming her now. _

_He__'__d _never _seen her so forwards before__…__perhaps he simply hadn__'__t know her long enough? No__…__that wasn__'__t it__…_

Athos' suspiciously roaming eyes suddenly caught sight of some wine over by their dresser and an almost empty bottle of 'medicine,' his eyes widening as he found his answer and then rolled skywards in exasperation.

_Great she was drunk -and without him! __…__well__…__maybe not without him, he could hardly keep his balance as it was!_

Athos sighed lightly and returned to his boots, peering around for the suspenders he noticed he was missing even though he continued to tie his boots on first, lazily.

_Maybe she was right about the carrot idea, he was certainly acting like a right carrot top right now. Dumb and brainless._

Miriam hiccupped behind him lightly as he began his task anew; her pleasant mood swaying to and froe within her slightly foggy mind as she giggled randomly.

"Where are we, anyways?" Miriam breathed out in a whisper; questions now beginning to take priority in her mind, now that she knew they were alive and safe.

Watching him tie, Miriam noted that she had still not bothered to ask where he intended to storm off to.

_Frankly, she couldn__'__t make herself care enough to mention it. She could just follow him should he leave, she already knew he would never desert her._

At his uncharacteristic silence towards her, Miriam prodded him in the back sharply; grinning at the squeak he let out as she found some new more mischievous manner of taunting him and bending him to her will.

_Athos. Was. Ticklish! _

Miriam grinned wickedly at him as he turned to meet her gaze with an impatient, half-hearted glare.

"Well, are you going to answer or are you just going to keep staring at my magnificent breas-" Miriam began cockily, his eyes widening in alarm as he stuttered to point out he was obviously _not _staring _there, _before the door suddenly swung open behind him and in walked a musketeer and a farmer.

_It sounded like a joke _Athos mused silently… but his humour was quickly stripped from his mind as he noted the mens' embarrassed and uncomfortable stares.

_No, on second thought, there was nothing funny about this situation. In fact, this was possibly the most shameful and embarrassing moment of his life _Athos moaned internally as he peered through his fingers over at the men who were now trying their best _not _to look into the room at the half dressed man in bed with a half dressed -fairly drunk- strange lady.

"I do apologize, ech hem, I-er- we did not mean to impose-" Bonnet tripped over his words, ears growing red over the embarrassing situation as he burned a hole into the ceiling with his eyes.

"-we just thought that you, and er, the young lady there, may be sleeping… and uhm…now that we know that you're not, and uhm, appear 'indecent,' ah, well we shall, er, go… please excuse us!" Bonnet finished hastily, spinning from the doorway to race down the stairs; the slightly flustered farmer ducking his head in good humour as he chortled at the expense of the others, closing the door behind him to follow the musketeer back down.

Athos let out an audible moan as he cringed at the awful spectacle he would no doubt remember forever.

How Aramis never became embarrassed when he was caught in such embarrassing situations was a mystery to Athos.

Mistaking his moan of anguish for one of pain, Miriam responded by wrapping gentle arms about his upper body -in what was admittedly the best hug he had ever received.

Athos merely sighed and gave into her forward nature, leaning back into her embrace to let him stroke the hair back out of his eyes; not caring if they were caught by the men downstairs -_as he was sure they were expecting this now anyway._

"You never answered my question…where are we?" Miriam mumbled abruptly, interrupting Athos' gradually relaxing state of tranquility and leaving him to heave out another frustrated sigh.

"I _believe_-" Athos stressed, "-we are in a farmers home" he answered bluntly; not wanting to overcomplicate his response with details of their exact transition to said home while her brain could hardly process…besides, he didn't quite know the truth either, so it would be pointless to confuse her further.

"How did we get here?" Miriam pressed; obviously not satisfied as Athos had hoped.

Repressing a tut, Athos obliged her curiosity.

"The musketeer regiment must have sent out men to find us…and when they did, they must have brought us here" he finished, rolling his head slightly under her palms to relieve the growing pains of her twirling fingers as she continued to wind his hair around them and unwittingly pull them from their roots as her focus wandered, yet again.

Letting go of his hair with a contented sigh, Miriam leaned down into Athos' face; her luscious locks raining down either side of his face and trapping him in that similar prison of beautiful hair he had once experienced that sad night they had stayed on the hill by her ruined home.

_The night both of their lives had changed… though whether it was for better or for worse was still up for debate _Athos pondered.

"Where do we go now?" she whispered sincerely, all manner of drunkenness seeming to vanish as her sad plea rang through his ears.

Athos frowned in thought before looking back up at Miriam, determination in his eyes, "We go home" he stated firmly.

"But, I don't have a home" Miriam replied knowingly, looking away from his gaze, tears glistening in her eyes as she looked away; her hair tickling against his nose.

"Yes you do" Athos corrected in a low dulcet tone, "-what's mine is yours" he promised; his earlier doubts about their relationship now discarded from his mind as his need to see her smiling and happy became his main concern.

_Damn it all, he was falling for her. _

Athos closed his eyes at the nerve racking thought and attempted to come to terms with the truth.

Miriam was touched by the sentiment and placed a hand over her heart, tears spilling from her eyes as she bowed her body; her breath hitching in pain at the movement but continuing to fulfill her purpose none-the-less as she placed a soft kiss on his forehead before straightening once more to look down on him lovingly.

_Maybe I was wrong, perhaps this is heaven _Athos mused, opening his eyes.

_There was an angel looking over him after all -and she was looking down at him right now. _

"Shouldn't this be the other way around?" Miriam suddenly teased fondly, causing Athos to blink up at her in confusion at the sudden shift in mood and hastily wipe away the single tear he had not been aware he had shed until she looked over to it.

Dropping his usually formal language, Athos sniffed; a sheepish grin taking over his expression, "Uhm, I guess so…?"

Miriam grinned back at him, their eyes meeting properly for the first time and drinking each other in with adoration as they stared at each others open souls. They had found each other, and they were never letting each other go.

_It was amazing what could happen to a person in a matter of hours…only at dawn he thought he would never live to see the full light of the sun again -let alone Miriams' loving face…and now… now they were recovering in a safe haven, in each others arms._

The future looked bright, his faith restoring itself slowly, step by step.

.

Athos slowly reached a tender hand up to her face, preparing to drag her down hungrily so he could kiss her, who cared if she was upside down?

Just then, a knock sounded at the door and a familiar uncomfortable voice sounded from the other side, "May we come in, now?" the voice called out nervously.

Athos sighed, he would make sure to finish this later.

Right now he had to get back on his feet and find his brothers, they were hopeless without him after all.

**So there****'****s the light fluffy chapter done! I hope you liked it -since I sort of have to return to the ****'****on edge****'**** brothers situation- before we can go back to the nicey-nicey chapters lol.**

**Let me know what you thought of it!**


	23. Race Against Time

**Glad you all liked the last chapter! It took me four hours to get in the mood to write this one up, I****'****ve been on a high all day and didn****'****t want to write darker stuff :/ It **_**is **_**lighter -but not much fun for D****'****artagnan, at all, lets just say that****…**

**-BIG thanks to: bright. lights. moonlit. nights- I cannot thank you enough for your last, and many other-hilarious/supportive reviews! as your pm is disabled. So I****'****ll let you know here, you can ship this as you please, I rather like mirthos myself as it means merriment and laughter-much of which happens when they around each other-drunk or not ;) Goodluck with the Fedex though, you****'****re on your own! ;D**

**-Also BIG special thanks to candy cakes, riversidewren, questfan, wolfrain5898, you guys supported me all the way and always make me smile with your reviews.**

**Thanks to all that followed, faved, guests, readers, or new reviewers who I****'****m just getting to know! You guys ROCK and I****'****m extremely grateful you are here! Anyways, on with the show shall we!**

Flashback- a few hours before dawn

D'artagnan rolled into a crouch in the darkness of the bush by the side of the dirt road; making sure to scurry back into its depths so the light of the burning home could not penetrate through and give away his hiding place.

By now, he could feel the hooves of the horses getting ever closer to his position; the ground underfoot trembling slightly.

_There had to be at least ten riders__…let the come!_

Admittedly the odds weren't _too great but D'artagnans' raging mind was to obsessed with thoughts of revenge that he couldn't care a less about his own well being any more._

_They may have killed a few off but their returning friends had still taken part in this, had still hurt his brothers, taken Athos from them, burnt down this home and killed its owners -had burnt down many a village in their wake and committed those obscene acts…no, they would pay._

Growing ever excited over the battle that was to come, D'artagnan let out his breath quietly and rolled his shoulders in anticipation; allowing his eyes to adjust to the night as he monitored the dark lumps racing up the dirt beaten path.

He knew he would fight them tooth and nail, use every dirty trick he'd learnt from Porthos, every expert manoeuvre and twirl he'd observed in Athos and any pistol work he'd watched from Aramis.

_His brothers would still be with him in spirit. If this were to be the end, then he would bring the glimmering parts of them along with him. As it should be._

Gripping his glove over the short blade in his hand, D'artagnan held his breath as the riders began to slow their fast canter within the ten foot mark from the house; some men dismounting ever as their horses moved, leaving them to their own devices as they began to jog over to his vulnerable brothers.

_Not on my watch you don__'__t!_

D'artagnan leapt from his hiding position with a blood curdling cry, dagger raised above his head and sprinted towards the back of the closest man; his dark form turning slightly; his shadowed face hinting at horror as they both knew he would not be able to defend himself in time.

At the sudden cry, Bonnets' second in command -and head of the new party- whirled around to witness a menacing shadow filled form leap out from the darkness of the bushes; an evil glint to his hand as he lowered it towards an unsuspecting musketeer.

Not thinking twice about his course of action, he whipped his gun up and shot the shadow out of the air; its screams of murder cutting off abruptly with a pained cry as it fell, face down to the floor and began squirming around -still trying to get up angrily to finish what it had started.

Glaring at the form, Frère; for that was his name, glided over to the scene, his still smoking pistol trained on the worming lump should he manage to get his arms steadily underneath him enough to raise himself.

A few of Fr_è_res' men joined him in the act of detainment; unsheathing their swords to point them down at the figures' back while the remaining musketeers rushed over to check on what appeared to be their beloved brothers.

Fr_è_res' mind quickly mimicked that of the roaring fire behind him as he peered down at the man in hatred; his temper flaring up much faster than that of Bonnet- but rightly so.

_This was most likely the was the last living man of the assailants who lay dead about the area -thanks to the efforts of their broken brothers. _

_Alas, it had not been enough for this villain as had set the house aflame too and then coolly awaited further musketeers in the bushes, ready to strike and kill _he deduced coldly.

_Had he no _honour_? No _mercy_?_

…_No, apparently not, _Frère concluded, shaking his head in disdain and kicking the groaning figure without mercy, taking pride in the fact that the man was in pain thanks to him.

"You thought you could just attack the kings' musketeers and get away with it" Frère spat, kicking at the figure with his boot once again and causing the man to draw in a choking gasp of air and curl in on himself protectively.

"Just like a pathetic mongrel" Frère observed cruelly, "-your filthy kind lies everywhere" and with that he rolled the man over roughly with the edge of his boot, now wanting to see the cowardly face of the man who had tried -and failed- to kill his men.

The identity he uncovered almost dropped him to his knees.

Frère could not believe that the tortured, twisted face beneath him was no other than their own brother, D'artagnan.

A startled intake of breath was collectively drawn at this new, shocking revelation; the musketeers all backing away guiltily and sheathing their swords to put their idle hands to their pained and traumatized faces as if to shield them from reality.

Hands to their mouths and gripping at their hair as they ripped their hats from their heads, some men began to pace restlessly back and forth around the area; the atmosphere thick with regret, as guts twisted sharply at the thought that they had tried -and almost succeeded- in killing one of their own.

Frère dropped to the ground, hands softly searching over the boys' body for the lethal damage he'd done; his dry throat closing up on him as a heavy weight settled down on his shoulders.

"We need a medic over here! Now!" he barked, eyes not leaving his brothers' face as he screwed his eyes shut tightly in agony and wrapped his arms ever tighter around his middle; tossing on the ground restlessly and moaning low into the night air.

Frère placed gentle hands against the boys shoulders in attempt to still the unwise motion but D'artagnan growled at him the minute his gloves made contact with leather; a fist shooting up towards his face and clawing at the air when it did not find its mark.

"I'll kill you! _Kill you all_!" the boy hissed acidly through clenched teeth, his eyes blurring over with the pain as he stared up at the shadowed figures.

_How dare they talk about musketeers! How dare they call them mongrels!_

D'artagnan continued to snatch at the mumbling conversations overhead as he pressed his slippery hands against the fire at his belly, the excruciating pain doing strange things to his vision and hearing.

_But he would not give in!_

Shrugging his shoulders out of the grasp of the devil, D'artagnan used his stored reserves to aim a fist at the man, his wide miss leading him to claw at his eyes.

He would take anything he could get right now. Once he had it, whatever article of clothing or flesh it may be, he would rip it to shreds.

_He was like a sand pit, ever waiting, ever deadly -but unmoving- just sat patiently for its prey before sucking it in, never letting go and dragging it to its doom._

D'artagnan would drag them all to hell.

Suddenly another figure loomed overhead, blotting out what little light remained in his periphery.

D'artagnan made a vicious noise at the back of his throat and tried to squirm towards the new attacker but a pressure on his shoulder stopped him.

Whipping his head down, D'artagnan saw a third figure kneeling on his opposite side, his hands aiming for the fire that was his midsection.

Bucking through the seemingly endless tunnel of men on either side, D'artagnan rolled on his front and crawled on his belly over to his brothers.

_They may be down and out but they were still armed._

He heard anguished calls at his back as he continued on the treacherous journey, his aching body begging him to cease this tormenting motion as his mind and heart battled to move onwards.

_There were more shapes hanging over his brothers! Like the attendants of death themselves, looking over his defenceless family, tools in hand, leaning down and towards their open souls._

"Noooooo!" D'artagnan slurred out the howl of desperation, clawing faster at the dirt as he approached the new foes, preparing to drag their boots out from under them so they may join him at floor level so he could bash their faces in with his bare fists.

It was in that instant that something pulled at the leather of D'artagnans' jacket and prevented him from moving further, so close to is brothers, yet so far away.

The shadows slowly turned back to their evil work and D'artagnan cried out in anguish once more, still struggling against the foes at his back as they flipped him back over.

"_Please_, just don't move. We're here to help you" a soothing voice called from the darkness above.

_He wouldn__'__t trust it. They had shot him!_

After further tense seconds of struggling and pain filled gasps, D'artagnan heard heated voices filter in through the background of reality, calling out in protest.

"Put him out of his misery" a new voice instructed; the insinuation of the statement leading D'artagnans drooping eyes to widen in alarm and dig his fingers into the eyes of a man who had come much too close.

_They wanted to kill him!_

Their was another brief struggle of limbs, moans and screams erupting into the night as either side won small victories against the other.

But _finally_, the men prevailed and D'artagnan was subdued and knocked into unconsciousness; his lolling head quickly cradled into the lap of a waiting brother as the medic did his best to cover the wounds with what cloths he had.

Frère stood back to allow his men to do their job, the guilt radiating off his being as he brokenly walked back to his horse and away from the scene; wanting to remain at a distance where the gurgling noises could not reach his ears.

_He could not believe _he _had done this, his youngest brother now lay injured because of him._

Frère desperately hoped the boy would pull through during the ride back to Paris…there was no where else to go from here and it was only an hours ride or so.

_But would his brothers last that long? Would D__'__artagnan be able to bounce back from this?_

Taking a long swig from his canteen to dull his darkest thoughts and keep his emotions from clouding his further 'judgement,' Frère shook his head and paced back over to his men -the ones who were trying to put out the flames of the home, unsuccessfully.

It took the musketeer squad almost an hour before they could stabilize their injured brothers enough so they may perch them on a mount to ride double.

And even longer to find their way on the beaten path that faded out through the meadows; the journey made ever more treacherous in the dark, early hours of the day.

Time was of the essence and yet it was being wasted by the caution they were forced to adhere to should they come across more foes.

And so they rode strategically against the outlines of meadows and the depths of gulleys, hiding in the bushes and using the foliage to protect them against the eyes of predators that lurked out there, somewhere.

They could not risk engaging in battle in their weakened, desperate state, but a musketeer must always be prepared.

They had been intensely reminded of the need for such preparations as of late, thanks to the condition of their brothers. They could not allow it to happen a second time.

It was as they rode that Frères' mind continued to circle back to the central question that nagged at his brain. W_hy would D__'__artagnan attack them?_

_Surely, all assailants had been slain here...or were they?…and of course, what did this mean of Athos? Why was he absent?_

Unfortunately, the men who could answer these worrying questions -or at least put the larger ones to rest- were currently in a world of their own; sleeping fitfully against their saddles as the uneven ground jutted them about and prevented peaceful sleep of any kind from taking place.

Gazing over to his brothers in the new half light of dawn, Frère critically began to inspecting his brothers' and match their tattered appearance to that of the harrowing scene they'd discovered only an hour before; easily concluding that these past few days had been rough and unforgiving.

It made him sick to know that while he had slept peacefully that first night they were away, Porthos had been stabbed and his brothers had been forced to travel through the night to rob the sanctuary of an unsuspecting woman -whom Treville had revealed in the note Athos had so gratefully sent.

…_But then they had found the womans' house burning down… and Athos was still missing! Why hadn__'__t he followed his brothers? Had they not set off together? If so, why hadn't he travelled back to Paris himself?_

There were too many questions that plagued his mind -and it was setting his already frayed nerves on the edge and causing his blood pressure to rocket sky high as a migraine began to form at his temples.

Frère sighed as he rubbed his head absently, contrasting his own woes against those of those who rode beside him. _He could hardly complain._

_And anyway, on the bright side, they h__a__d been lucky to have found their comrades in time -for the state they were in; miles from home and without any aid- would have left them exposed to the baking summer sun of the day, the heat bleeding them dry once the sun rose._

…_On the dark side, they had instead found them by a flaming home; two brothers fallen and a third having lost his mind. _

Frère doubted he would remain sane either given the circumstances the boy had endured.

He pitied D'artagnans' involvement in all of this.

Not because the young lad couldn't handle it but because it was too early for his time, he shouldn't have to witness such atrocities, be put through such strains and walk the days reliving past nightmares.

_This was all wrong. Never was a career worth it if it meant destroying a soul and tainting the minds of the innocent and young._

Frère sighed.

He highly doubted he could convince D'artagnan of such ideas, for although these experiences may scar the boys' mind and tear at his body for years to come, his optimistic outlook, charisma, stubbornness and loyalty always pulled him through to the other side...

_And made him the perfect musketeer._

Frère just hoped that the 'perfect musketeer' had enough fight left in him to make it back home. He didn't think he could forgive himself if he died by his hand; especially knowing what it would do to the boys' closest brothers.

Frère tugged his mount into a faster gallop across the slowly lighting plains, hoping Bonnet was having much better luck than him with Athos as they raced against time to save their kin and bring them back home to Paris.

**Sooo not too dark I hope? It did have whump! D****'****artagnan style lol ouch!**

**I****'****d like to mention that I will never be using Fr****è****re again if I can help it, since I don****'****t have the special French **è **button and have to copy and paste his name EVERYWHERE****…****.including that letter just to demonstrate lol**

**So yeah, that was annoying.**

**Anywho, please leave a review and let me know what you think will happen next!**

**-anyone want to guess what Porters****'**** devious mind is up to?**


	24. The Farm pt1

**So my busy day caused this delayed update, but I made sure to make it fluffy and mushy and super long just because you guys are so awesome. I really hope you like it, I worked hard on reorganizing this until it fit just right!**

**Aaanyways, please enjoy!**

MEANWHILE

As soon as Bonnet had placed his foot inside the door, Athos had risen to his feet -albeit somewhat unsteadily- and rushed towards the door in a stumble; snapping it shut hastily with a slam and causing a loud yowl to sound from the other side.

"Sorry!" Athos called, breathing heavily, "You'll have to wait a moment longer… the lady is still unfit!" he lied desperately; talking into the oak door at his friends while he heard a humph of annoyance sound from behind him.

Athos turned to Miriam and shrugged nonchalantly, "Let's see you come up with a better excuse" he retorted.

Miriam smiled all to gleefully, words bursting from her mouth before Athos had the sense to stop her.

"Yes, I'll be just a moment! My partner here cant seem to do up his breeches -what with his pained side and all" she added wittily, evil grin matching the ferocious glare Athos was now sending her way.

Miriam mocked a serious shrug, "Best I could do" she quipped before abruptly turning her body back around on the bed so she may peer out the window innocently, leaving Athos to fume silently.

An annoyed growl split the room as Athos left the door and shuffled back over; pointedly ignoring his petty female companion so he could concentrate on more pressing matters.

_Like finding his missing clothes._

Casting his eyes about the room Athos sought out the remainder of his garments and eventually spotted two neat stacks of strange clothes awaiting them atop a chestnut dresser. One for her and one for him.

_There was no way he would get caught in such an unsavoury manner again. It was unprofessional and inappropriate to say the least -and it also didn__'__t speak to kindly on Miriams__'__ behalf either _Athos acknowledged primly.

Shuffling painfully across to them, Athos swiped the free bottle from its place as he went and took a healthy swig just as Miriam giggled again from behind him.

_He needed more wine._

Approaching the clothes wearily, Athos suddenly realized it was of the wrong colour -and fabric; his once dark buttoned leather doublet now replaced with a somewhat flimsy grey cardigan paired with some worn, beige breeches that lay beneath -suggesting he best trade his own.

Miriams' once white, frilly dress was gone now too and a deep green, patterned dress lay in its place.

_Their clothes__…__were gone._

Athos was mortified at the thought of his favourite doublet and pouldron stripped of his being and discarded somewhere -his identity ripped away with them.

_They may have been torn and bloodied but they__'__d had no right to remove them from him! None!_

Sensing his unease from across the room, Miriam cautiously questioned his state of shock; a hint of worry in her voice.

"My outfit-" Athos whispered, fingers rubbing distastefully at the new scratchy fabrics of the farmers' loaned clothing, a pout to his scowling face.

Miriam immediately sighed and rolled her eyes.

_Leave it to men to always obsess over the wrong things._

"I'm sure they're just waiting for you downstairs, in need of a good wash no doubt" Miriam informed, trying to keep the exasperation out of her tone.

Athos peered back over to her, disbelief and concern marring his face even as Miriam shook her head impatiently and ordered him over with a waggling finger.

Acting much the part of a scolded child, Athos grudgingly swiped up their new clothes and trundled over, placing them down on the bed before moving around the bed to take a seat on the opposite side and reaching for the clothes without another word.

Miriam sighed once more but let a small grin tug at her mouth as she turned her back to Athos while they dressed slowly.

She was ever so tempted to turn around and watch him but she held her manners in check and forced her curious eyes away. _There was nothing she hadn__'__t seen before__…__except for maybe the toned muscles she__'__d witnessed on their first night together._

Biting back an 'mmmm' noise regarding the pleasurable memories, Miriam cleared her throat just as she pulled her dress down stiffly, alerting to Athos that he may turn around and should help her in her new tricky predicament.

_The corset._

Unable to complain for fear he may give up altogether after the eleventh try, Miriam merely sat on the bed, fingers gripping the wood of the board as Athos tugged against the pile of endless strings at her back; his fingers fumbling to find the right loose ends and pull them tight -and cursing loudly when he failed miserably, again.

"Is this _really _necessary, Miriam?" Athos huffed, frustration obvious in his voice.

"Well, seeing as our hosts thought it necessary enough to place it there, yes, I believe it is" Miriam replied tersely, "-Besides, it may aid with the pressure against these bandages" she added smartly, her logical approach garnering only an annoyed grunt from the man at her back.

It was perhaps for the grace of god -and Miriams' sanity- that Athos _finally _managed to find the right strings to pull; his cursing stopping abruptly as a sound of joy broke from his mouth.

_At last! He had defeated the accursed contraption!_

Brushing his hands together smugly, Athos turned back to the bed, wavering slightly in his tipsy state and all but collapsing into a seated position so he could finish with retying his boots now that he had put the beige '_things__'_on.

_He dearly hoped Miriam was right about his outfit._

Only a minute later, another knock sounded at the door; the oak remaining closed this time should a foot be broken like it had almost been last time.

"Come in!" Athos answered from the bed; Miriam kneeling behind him on the mattress in her new dress.

Glancing back to the bowing of the bed just as his man entered the door, Athos took a second to survey Miriams' new dress.

It matched her eyes to a certain extent but Athos' would much rather see her in a black or white -much like the one she had worn; his reasoning being that the plain colours complimented the rest of her beauty without competing for attention.

_Simplicity always worked best._

Athos nodded his appreciation to their host as he entered the room after Bonnet, smiling sincerely down to the shorter man as he stood up and clasped his hand firmly.

"My many thanks, friend. I simply cannot apologize enough for our untimely intrusion upon your humble establishment… I do hope you can find it in your heart to forgive us for any inconveniences it may have caused you or your family" Athos stated, brows knitted with hope as he placed a second hand on the mans' shoulder.

_He could hardly express his gratitude alone towards this mans generosity. If it were not for his kindness, Miriam may not be alive presently._

Athos repressed a shudder at the thought as he let go of the mans' hand, who nodded at his remark.

"No trouble at all! I am happy to have provided some useful service… Why, just last year you musketeers returned me my youngest daughter and brought her home safely -for which I am eternally grateful" Alf informed, temporarily caught up in his memories, his eyes appearing rather distant.

"-The least I could do is repay the favour and offer you the assistance of my wifes' steady sowing hands -and this meagre shelter- as any man would" Alf mumbled shyly, eyes drifting back to Athos, his genuine smile dazzling the eyes of the others.

Athos shook his head "I regret to inform you that you are sorely mistaken, as we know for a fact not all men are as kind as you were, my friend" Athos began, knowingly, "-but I thank you all the same. Is there anything we can do to repay you for your kindness?"

Alf shook his head modestly, "Your soothing company is enough, musketeer" he replied honestly, reaching up to pat the tired man assuredly on the shoulder, taking pleasure in seeing the man relax somewhat at this.

Athos nodded, "Very well, we are all forever in your debt" he promised, hand over his heart, bowing his head slightly; Bonnet and Miriam copying the motion out of deep respect.

Touched by the honour, Alf blushed and looked down.

"I'll go rustle up some grub for you two then, shall I? You already missed lunch but we can't have you starving when you're still recovering" he finished heartily, beginning to exit the room to leave them to their important business.

Athos raised a finger as if to interfere with a argument but the man had left quickly and made sure to close the door behind him.

_This was a good kind of frustration at least _Athos decided as he moved his eyes from the door back over to Bonnet expectantly, hoping for good news.

Miriam hovered eagerly in the background as Bonnet began to entreat Athos with all news of home and dealings of their adventures across the plains since his disappearance -managing to mention that he had sent some men off to gather up his brothers, should they catch them along the journey home and deliver them safely.

Athos' mind turned slowly as he digested every tidbit of information his brother gave him; storing away the relieving notes about his brothers' as he focused in on Bonnets' revelation about the burning villages he had passed on the way here.

The familiar pangs of hatred returning to his churning gut, Athos deftly interrupted Bonnets' stream of information to add his own tales of Porter into the mix and help sow this puzzle back together.

"So, you're telling me it was this Porter fellow who ordered such destruction upon these innocent people?" Bonnet repeated, disbelievingly.

"Porter is hardly a 'fellow'" Athos corrected icily, fists clenching tightly by his sides as his eyes grew dark at the past images of the sinisterly smiling man he'd met in the forest only hours before.

The urge to carve that look from his face had still not faded from Athos' mind, he doubted it ever would until his fulfilled his wishes.

Bonnets' expression turned to one of outrage as he kicked the leg of the bed harshly and started to pace across the room; anger bubbling back to the surface.

_Porter had been there! Present, in the forest only moments before he and his men had arrived! They could have still caught him! Taken him down. Prevented him from burning any more villages to the ground__…_

_-But they had been too late, and now he was still out there. Roaming free._

Bonnet kicked his boot at a wall, biting down hard on his lip as he tried to keep his raging temper in check.

"We must find him! _Kill _him!" Bonnet growled, refusing to slow in his movements, eyes darting around madly as ever more cruel punishments for Porter came to mind.

_The man had tried to kill his family, had killed countless others__…__. Damn the code, he refused to take this man in alive._

Knowing all to well what this kind of frustrated anguish would do to Bonnets' young mind, Athos struggled across the floor and leant against the edge of the bed, catching him by the cuff as he started to circle back around again in the rut he was creating.

Holding him fast, Athos offered Bonnet a comforting sentiment.

"We _will _catch him, brother. His days are numbered, and he knows this too. He will get what he deserves" Athos hissed, cold eyes meeting the mans' so his unwavering gaze could instil the sense of certainty he held within his being.

_Porter would die._

Sighing deeply, Bonnet tugged his arm away and wandered over to the window absently, passing by Miriam who watched over them silently, concern displayed clearly across her features.

"So what's the plan?" Bonnet muttered, somewhat put out now that he knew it would not be to charge after the rotten scoundrel that had left his brother -and this young woman- to die alone in the woods.

"We head back home" the voice came from behind him, tone serious but softer than it had been seconds before; no edge to it now that his mind was consumed by his brothers' waiting faces instead of a villain.

Bonnet nodded slowly and turned back to the room so he could look Athos in the eye so he could continue with his orders; more than happy to be serving under someone again rather than be the one responsible. _He hated that feeling._

"We need to reach the Paris first-" Athos began with a sense of urgency "-I have a feeling that Porter isn't quite done with us yet" he added, eyes glancing over to Miriam who was frowning deep in thought; possibly about their last encounter with the man.

She shivered at whatever thoughts were plaguing her mind and so Athos shuffled back over to her side, lending her his hand and coiling his fingers around hers in a show of comfort; clasping one another's hands tightly and sharing a longing gaze.

If Bonnet had noticed the motion, he didn't say anything.

_He had never really seen Athos about women -or interacting with them for that matter. It was usually Aramis who was into that sort of thing, D__'__artagnan too once in a while and perhaps Porthos -should he return to __'__lending favours__'__ with his favourite mistress back home. But never Athos._

_There had been rumours of his past life when he had been in a relationship of some kind …but obviously that hadn__'__t worked out. _

_It didn__'__t matter what had happened though, Athos was a respected musketeer now and they would _never _judge him over his past dealings. It was none of their business anyway._

Looking back out of the window, Bonnet pretended to spot something of his interest in the yard down below to give the couple a moment of privacy.

"Are you sure you want to leave today? We can wait" Athos murmured quietly, blue eyes now focused on Miriams' before drifting down to her corset where a barely healing wound lay underneath.

"No" Miriam replied, adamantly, "-I can't hold you from your brothers any longer, they will be worried" she finished knowingly, wanting Athos to return almost as badly as he knew he did.

Touched by her compassion but torn over the fact that it would mean she would have to ride, in pain, all the way to Paris, Athos silently debated whether he should follow his heart or his head.

_He wasn't letting her stay behind, though. That wasn't an option._

Looking back up, Athos recognized the look of defiance on her face as she stared back at him, waiting patiently for him to answer 'correctly.'

Lips tugging downwards in disapproval, Athos attempted to convince Miriam of the flaws in her plan but it only seemed to cause her expression to intensify.

_So stubborn _Athos acknowledged with a tired sigh as he shook his head, looking to her green eyes for a second longerfor further confirmation. _He would never ask anything more of her._

Miriam only nodded determinedly. _This silent conversation was over._

"I'm ready when you are" she finished simply, Athos nodding his head with an undisguised look of gratefulness and appreciation towards her kindness before turning back to Bonnet.

"Prepare the horses then, we will be down shortly" Athos instructed softly, giving the man his leave of them -especially since he knew his brothers had been waiting to leave almost as soon as he'd entered the room; the intimately private nature they shared when together making him feel awkward.

On his way out, Bonnet managed to remind them of their promise to dinner -telling Miriam to make sure Athos' honoured it before scuttling out of the room quickly after he'd caught her cheeky nod of acceptance.

He knew full well to avoid Athos' retort about 'no such promises having occurred' and didn't feel like engaging the man in a battle of wits. And so Bonnet jogged happily down the stairs, a smile on his face as he set about his much easier task than dealing with his brother.

Athos sighed in exasperation as he looked back to Miriams' mischievous smile.

_Those two were as thick as thieves already! What was he walking into with this woman?_

Not wanting to lose any more of his waning pride with bumbling about up here any longer, Athos straightened himself up from the bed and held out his arm to Miriam, preparing to escort her down to 'dinner.'

"Ever the gentleman" Miriam teased, accepting his arm and leaning into his frame as her stomach throbbed horribly.

The couple clambered painfully down the stairs, using both the walls and each other for support as they went; resting against any door frames they could find as their fresh wounds almost took their feet out from under them.

By the end of it all, Athos was all but carrying Miriam bridal style to the dining table and dropping her unceremoniously to the bench on her backside, arms giving out as his side throbbed harshly.

"Gentle!" Miriam hissed, scolding Athos and swatting him weakly on the arm as he went to sit opposite her at the table; all but falling onto his seat and dropping his tired head to the table.

Miriam managed a smile at the pathetic lump of unruly hair on Athos' head before her; taking a moment to swipe her unkempt strands of hair from her eyes and tuck them into her dark locks so she could watch the amusing spectacle more clearly -and also witness the arrival of the wife who swept into the room abruptly.

In her hands, she held two fairly sized bowls of broth; a cheerful smile gracing her tired motherly features as she set them in front of the couple; her face pinching minutely in annoyance as she saw Athos' unwilling expression.

_Such a child, _Miriam sighed.

"It will help with your strength, eat" the wife ordered, her tone only somewhat friendly this time as she scooted the broth closer to Athos.

Miriam smiled lightly, refraining from interfering. She wanted to see how this played out.

Athos _really _didn't want to eat.

_He felt sick to his stomach as it was with all the aches, pains and contamination of wine__…__and besides, these people already had little resources to feed their own. This wasn__'__t fair_.

Athos pushed the bowl away feebly, shaking his head as he clutched his stomach with a single hand beneath the table.

"No, thank you. Really, I'm not hungry" he explained as nicely as he could; eyes almost pleading the wife to accept his apology and feed some other poor soul who needed it more than he did.

But the woman only appeared more annoyed at his refusal and merely placed her hands on hips - unfortunately, Athos missed the glare as he stared sickly back down at the broth.

Miriam guessed it was about time she stepped in and promptly kicked him under the table, causing him to wince and glare up at her.

"Athos, you're _insulting _her!" Miriam ground out in a none to quiet whisper; encouraging Athos to look back up at the scowling woman to interpret her features for himself.

_She didn__'__t look __'__insulted__'…__. she looked mad._

He'd had no choice but to comply. Miriam had confided in him rather loudly in the presence of this woman -_doing so intentionally to put him on the spot no doubt_. _Damn you, Miriam!_

"Sorry, I'm not myself lately" Athos apologized quietly, eyes darting away from the womans' quickly.

Gulping, Athos turned his eyes back to his broth, moaning internally as he gripped his wooden spoon and ladled some of the dull liquid up to his lips and poured it into his mouth.

The woman remained by his side -menacingly in Athos' eyes- as she stood by and watched him expectantly as if to say _'__Well?__'_

In truth, the broth had set his throat on fire as it had burned its way down and into the pits of his stomach; the taste making him shudder and twitch internally.

But Athos schooled his features quickly and looked back up to the woman, a slight smile on his face as he licked his lips.

"Mmmm, _delicious_" Athos lied, exaggerating his approval of the deathly pond water while he tried not to wince and wrinkle his nose.

Miriam smiled knowingly over the lip of the bowl at Athos as she sipped quietly; abandoning her spoon so she could use this motion to hide her expression from the woman by her side, her eyes shining with silent laughter.

Athos resisted the urge to roll his eyes, as he put another disgusting spoonful into his mouth.

_Miriam was back to mischief again it seemed._

**I cut it here because this chapter became 18 pages long! But I am instantly uploading the second half, so sorry if it seems cut off! Let me know what you thought anyways!**


	25. The Farm pt2

**Here's part two!**

**- As a side note, I borrowed the ****chorus ****-and only the chorus-from the perfectly fitting song: Try by Pink.**

**It suited Athos****'**** predicament extremely well and I didn****'****t want to ruffle the lyrics at all. You will probably be able to spot them -unless you already know the song! Through the chorus just note I am referring to Athos and milady, not Mirthos! **

**Aaaaanyways, enjoy!**

Nodding with approval, the woman turned on her heel and left the couple alone as she headed back to the kitchen; Athos almost immediately abandoning his bowl of broth as soon as she was out of sight -prodding at it distatefully with his spoon.

It was through this motion that Athos' spoon suddenly dredged a lump up from the depths of the bowl.

_A carrot!_

Athos dropped his spoon in shock and the broth splashed over the lip of the bowl to spill onto the table -leading Miriam to snort at him as she continued to munch on the stewed carrots.

Athos was starting to think their love should be symbolized by carrots, not flowers…

_They were everywhere he went! He just couldn__'__t avoid the stupid, orange stumps!_

Athos' thoughts mulled over carrots and love as the woman before him slurped loudly at her broth; some little droplets of her own dripping from the bowl to cover her new frilly dress in brown water.

_She may look ridiculous but she still had the face of an angel._

Athos felt his stomach twist in heat once more at the random thought; this time the motion sending a sharp stab of pain up his side and provoking him to shift uncomfortably; leaning to the side and drawing his leg up towards his chest in an attempt for relief.

"Wait…Did you just?-" Miriam insinuated humorously, seeing him shift in his seat for 'no reason other than wind.'

"What? _No_!" Athos blushed furiously and dropped his leg but Miriam only giggled all the more.

However she was forced to stop when he side tugged painfully; encouraging her to put her arms down by her side as she breathed through the pain.

Athos watched her nervously for a moment, unsure what to do while he observed Miriam, wincing as he saw her hiss again as she tried to raise the spoon back to her mouth.

Highly concerned for her well being, Athos took slowly to his feet with a groan and moved over to sit by her side, checking on the injury with gently probing fingers.

Of course to accomplish such an inspection, it took Athos a bit of prying and wiggling to get his fingers through the ruffles of her dress and under the edge of her corset to feel at the warm bandages underneath. _Not wet._

As he removed his fingers once more, Athos inspected them for crimson, happily confirming that they were not covered in any amount of blood.

_The wound was still holding. Thank god._

Athos gave Miriam a relieved smile, her eyes meeting his; their faces now only inches apart in this intimate position.

"Do you require assistance?" Athos asked smoothly, eyeing the broth, his voice barely a whisper.

Miriam detected the humour there but she didn't reciprocate. She was still in awe of his beautiful sapphire eyes that were currently piercing through her own.

"I could use a little" she confessed, attention still captured by his eyes.

Athos smiled down at her handsomely, "Very well" and he picked up the spoon.

"Cant waste those carrots, now can we?" he quipped rhetorically, Miriam grinning lightly before opening her mouth for the spoon that he raised her lips and swallowing it down lightly when the _lovely _broth filled her mouth.

"Like royalty" Miriam mused, looking up to Athos shyly through her long lashes.

"Quite" he replies, his humour seeming to fade slightly at the statement as a thought from afar struck his mind.

A moment of peaceful silence passed by as Athos continued to feed Miriam carrot stewed broth. She was rather enjoying the moment until she noticed the slightly pained look on his face.

_He seemed troubled _-and it bothered her greatly.

"What is it?" Miriam inquired, hand to his thigh as his eyes refused to meet hers.

"Nothing" he mumbled sullenly, shaking his head slightly as he continued to scoop up more broth.

"Tell me, _please_" Miriam urged, gripping his leg a little harder.

Athos put the spoon down softly as Miriam forced him to stop the motion with her hands, still noting the expression of anguish on his face as he looked down into his lap.

Sighing tiredly, with a slight hitch to his exhale, Athos looked back up to Miriam; nervous eyes shining with both queries and hurt.

_He could never hide what he felt from her__…__ they__'__d come too far together__…_

And so, Athos quietly began to confess what this familiar scene had reminded him of, his utmost worries and failures tumbling out of his darker past as he admitting, with unfounded shame, that he had done all of this once before; with his undecidedly dead or alive _wife_.

Miriam sat by his side patiently, rubbing his leg comfortingly as he spilled out his secrets; her expression mirroring his one of sadness -for an entirely different reason.

It was hard to watch Athos in such a broken state, he was always so confident, independent and fierce…not lost, shy and despairing -at least not all the time.

_Someone had hurt her man, scarred him forever and she could hardly accept the harsh truths that spilt so freely from his once sealed lips. So much suffering for much too long. _

A sympathetic tear slid down her cheek as she pulled him to her and placed her chin atop his head so she could wrap her arms around his stiff shoulders.

He wasn't crying but Miriam could tell he was holding back sobs.

Athos continued to ramble out his more recent worries, then, unable to hold back the damn that had burst as his mind gave way under it all after such a stressful time.

Miriam continued to stroke his hair, shushing him once in a while so he could catch his breath.

His tired mind began to track back around in circles, repeating topics he had already brushed on, stating that 'this had happened before,' that 'the courting of women was never his strong suit,' that 'it never really had been' and that 'it was a weakness…he was a weakness, he had weaknesses' he couldn't overcome, no matter how hard he tried. And when those weaknesses interfered and prevented him from saving those he loved…well it broke him apart inside'…

'And if they should…'start out'… well, he couldn't bare to let _that _happen again…

Miriam brushed a new tear away from her cheek with the back of her hand and sniffling slightly and he whispered out his final trailing confessions.

"I shouldn't have let myself get so close to you" he whispered, eyes blurry with unshed tears.

Miriam didn't know if her breaking heart could take much more of this stress -and so she took to anger instead.

It had already been festering the moment he had revealed that his wife had been the one to murder his only brother. She let her emotions known as she gripped him tighter and fought for the right words.

_Someone had hurt him, she knew it from the beginning when she had chosen him. He had always been there for her, returning the love when she gave it, but he always hung on the outskirts; never quite comfortable or confident enough to move forwards. _

Miriam realized now it had always been _her _initiating the gestures -and though he was willing, he was merely reacting.

_He didn__'__t want to take the leap. Not again, not after that._

"So you're supposed to live a life of woe and solitude?" she challenged angrily, her temper overriding her emotions of sadness.

Athos bowed his head and looked away, unable to conjure an answer that would placate her.

"Athos…" Miriam whispered soothingly, gripping his arm and making him look to her.

Once she had captured his eyes firmly she began her own soft rant.

"Where there is a desire… there is going to be a flame, and where there is a flame someone's bound to get burnt -But just because you're burnt doesn't mean you're going to die, you have to get up and try, try again" she lectured, hoping her words would prove valuable and cease his endless self torture.

Not expecting such metaphorical words of wisdom, Athos stopped picking at his piteous thoughts and truly looked at her, looked into her soul to find the truth she held there for him.

"Athos… you can't run from love forever. It's what gives you purpose… _You _are a man with the kindest, biggest, most loyal heart I have ever seen -your entire being runs off of your passions -and you _live _for the sake of others!" she told him, palm cupping his face.

"-You my dear friend, are a love bug -you just need another bugger to fall for your charm ….which needs some work I might add" she teased knowingly, punching his shoulder playfully as she broke from the seriousness of the moment.

Athos' expression began to soften at her wit almost instantly and a small smile began to quirk at the corners of his mouth.

_He was trying. For her._

Miriam smiled warmly at seeing this progression, "See, if you smiled more often, I'm sure you'd get more fish… Its very enticing don't you know" she stated matter-of-factly, head tilting to the side as her eyes looked over his ruggedly handsome face.

Miriam smiled openly at his constantly mussed dark hair, her eyes gliding over his features, taking in everything; his strong brows, his bright blue eyes; those enchanting pools of both light and darkness, descending further still to his delicate nose and finally to those thin, pink lips; a tiny scar adorning them through his neatly trimmed moustache.

_She loved every square inch. He was perfect. She just wished he could see it like she did._

Athos blushed, actually blushed, at her remark; almost forgetting his woes entirely as she yet again caught him off balance with her daring, silver tongue -his eyes darting about in embarrassment, leading her to giggle at the sight of disarming her soldier.

Just then bonnet leant in through the doorway and interrupted the moment with a nervous, throaty cough.

"Ah, we are ready for you outside now" he alerted the pair, smiling slightly as they both whipped around as if they had been rabbits who found the barrel of a gun pointed at them.

They each winced in unison at the jerky movement and then shared a smile over the nuisance that was their injuries.

Bonnet quickly excused himself once more and leant back out through the door frame as Athos turned back to Miriam, who coughed once to bring himself back to the seriousness of the moment and also so he could settle his senses.

"Shall we?" he inquired quietly, not quite fully recovered from sharing his soul.

Miriam merely beamed up at him as he helped her to her feet and placed a guiding hand at her back.

Having none of his gentlemanly actions, Miriam forced his arm around her shoulder as she hugged at his side; using each other as a meagre crutch of sorts as they limped over to the door; arms around each other sides, both support and comfort.

As they stepped out, Athos realized the sun was now shining ever brighter, high up in the sky; its godly presence gleaming down on the meadows below that lay across from their small lawn that sat within the alcove of sheltering trees.

Squinting ahead through the sun, Athos spied two small robins swooping over the golden corn as they practised their aerial ballet, dancing together, as only a couple could.

Miriam smiled as she followed his gaze and he returned the warmth with his own smirk; leaning into her body as she hugged at his midsection carefully, continuing over to the men on cautious feet who waited for them patiently by the stables.

Each wore a proud smile to see their lieutenant -and brother in arms- up on his feet only hours after the harrowing accident; the beautiful lady at his side seeming to be the cause for his unusually bright mood. They adored her for it.

_After all, a happy Athos meant they__'__d receive little grouchiness or nagging in their ears when they rode home._

It was during this delicate little trek over to the few horses that Alf purposefully stepped into their path, his serious face hinting of a personal mission that he was determined to fulfil.

Athos laid a heavy hand on his shoulders once again, "Is there anything I can do for you, my friend?" he asked softly, already out of breath by this minor excursion.

Alf shook his head but smiled brightly at the thoughtfulness of the musketeer; he knew he'd been right in taking the chance to bring them in.

Scuffing at the floor with his old boots, Alf was about to say something when the man by the name of Bonnet called out suddenly as if to add to Athos' offer.

"The king will hear of your good deeds, monsieur. We will no doubt return shortly to offer your family a generous reward for your doubly generous hospitality" he promised, hat placed over his heart as he smiled warmly down to their host from his horse.

Alf looked up at the musketeer atop his horse and easily returned the smile -but shook his head lightly, "I will need no such reward gentleman, this land reaps what it sows and your pleasant company was enough, as I have said" he informed humbly; receiving awed and heartfelt smiles all around.

Athos and Miriam had tears in their eyes as the short man looked back to them once more; thanking him sincerely with a hug from Miriam and a friendly handshake and a pat of the shoulder from Athos, before turning back to the horses.

Alf sidestepped into their path once more, finger in the air as he tried to say something, stopping the couple again and noting the confusion settling into the musketeers face.

"I wanted to offer you my stallion for the ride…I see you are one horse short and tiring out the others would not aid you in your hasty return" he proposed, wringing his hands as the men suddenly silenced in their small talk behind him.

_Had he said something wrong?_

Athos shook his head vigorously and put a hand back to the mans' shoulders, "Monsieur, we have already taken your aid, your shelter and your clothes it would seem" he mentioned gesturing to the new garments, "-we won't be taking anything more from you" he finished seriously, a friendly smile on his face.

Alf shook his head in protest, "Please. I would not be burdened, I have a few horses besides the stallion. I want you to return home as quick as possible, there's no sense in milling around these meadows any longer than you have to -and at the mercy of this summer heat I might add" he added with a humorous smile.

"-You can bring him back later, don't worry" he noted, cutting off Athos' next argument.

Athos looked over to Bonnet and then back to Miriam as if in question as to what he was supposed to do now.

Miriam stepped forwards and embraced the short man in a hug, pouring her love through the close contact, "Thank you" she whispered into his ear, stepping back to hold him at shoulders' length so he could see the gratitude on her face.

"You are very welcome" Alf replied with a nod.

Athos and Bonnet bowed their heads to the man once more and headed towards the white stallion tied to a hitching post by the front of the home; bumping into the wife as she hurried to them down the small footpath at the door, carrying a bag of supplies.

"Don't you go forgetting this!" she huffed, thrusting the bag into Athos' arms with enough force for him to let out an 'oomph.'

Miriam smiled her thanks as she held the stallions reigns, "Thank you, madam" Athos replied, peering into the bag curiously; his heart fluttering with joy as he spotted their clothes, his beloved hat, pouldron and doublet among the rationed goods.

He beamed back to the wife and she smiled back for once, dipping her head slightly.

Struggling up into the saddle, Athos finally mounted the stallion behind Miriam and turned it from the post, heading over to their comrades as Miriam retrieved his hat from the bag and leant back to clap it onto her partners head, twisting it around playfully and inadvertently shoving the dark strands of his hair into his eyes.

Athos batted her arms away in annoyance and nudged the horse after the retreating backs of their brothers, now fully intent on getting home as soon as possible.

Miriam grinned but stopped her teasing, turning slightly to look over his shoulder an wave back at the loving farmer and his wife, receiving warm smiles and waves before they turned the corner at a tree and vanished from sight.

The ride proved an uncomfortable one as their injuries throbbed and stabbed at their insides, dredging up panting sounds and unsuppressed moans from their riders as Miriam gripped onto the saddle -and Athos' the reigns.

It was under this more miserable mood through the pleasant meadows that Miriam coughed to gain Athos' wandering attention, nudging him slightly so he could catch the end of her quiet question.

"- do I go now?" she whispered, her frightened and sorrowful expression hidden from view as he sat behind her.

"Don't worry, Miriam. We'll cross that bridge when we get there" he assured her, wrapping his arm slightly tighter around her middle in the best hug he could manage.

"Lets just hope its not burning" she joked darkly, Athos shaking his head in disapproval, not the slightest bit amused.

Leaning back, Miriam noticed that he wasn't smirking like she was and quickly became exasperated at his stiff and serious manner.

Shoving him in annoyance, Miriam began to mutter something along the lines of 'Don't look so serious!' but instantly regretted the movement as her stitches tugged in her side and she let out a pained gasp.

Athos looked down to her over her shoulder in a millisecond, concern written all over his face, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, fine" she grumbled moodily, _she was supposed to get him back for his sour mood, not hurt herself!_

Athos shook his head when he realized she was sulking in his lap.

_She was so stubborn._

He rolled his eyes and then turned them back to the meadows instead; seeing them in a new more dreading perspective -instead of the natural beauty he'd seen in them before all of this.

Mind wandering as they rode in semi-comfortable silence, Athos began to worry for missing brothers, he hadn't seen their faces in so long.

His worries only seemed to double when they passed what Bonnet had previously mentioned about the destruction of homes; observing the smouldering ruins of a distant home over yonder.

At least they were headed in the right direction Miriam had muttered brokenly but Athos' mind was captured by a concerned and purposefully quiet statement at his back, "Didn't Frère come through here for the boys?" it questioned.

Athos felt his gut tighten painfully, as they came closer to the home, hoping the man had been wrong.

_He hoped his brothers had continued onto Paris without trouble__…__there were only strange bodies waiting here after all._

_Hopefully they__'__d had better luck than he__'__d had. He didn__'__t know what he would do if they__'__d been hurt somehow thanks to his absence. He was their leader, their brother. It was his duty to protect them._

_Athos shook his head in denial. They would be fine, he would see them back at the garrison, smiling mischievous faces ready to bug the hell out of him upon his return._

Athos smirked but it faded just as quickly as they passed by some dead bodies all clad in the same outfit, _the assailants_…

Athos gulped and nudged his mount fasted, following his brothers past the home and continuing in the direction back to Pairs.

_They needed to get home, faster._

**Hope you liked it, sorry I had to cut it up and multi update, I didn****'****t have the heart to break their hearts -or yours- and interrupt the scene on a pointless cliff hanger! **

**I didn't mention it before because I thought it would be a bit excessive, but the popular song Demons by Imagine Dragons also set the tone for this chapter -it sings about demons held inside a haunted soul, unable to let go and not wanting to get close and hurt their lover. Very Athos indeed!**

**Anyways, **_**please **_**leave a review and let me know what you thought of it! I love getting them, they keep me going!**


	26. Return

**Thanks for all the reviews! Here****'****s the next chapter, back to the boys, eh? Yes, I****'****m Canadian, I****'****m allowed to do that : )**

**I tried to pack a lot of angst into this chapter, it****'****s mainly on Aramis this time, so for all you Aramis lovers out there, this ones for you! ;)**

The ride back home had thankfully been an peaceful one -if you could call whimpering, struggling and moaning from your potentially dying brothers, _peaceful_.

As Frère lead his men from the outskirts of farms and through the sunset lit streets of Paris, many civilians whether rich, poor, young or old, stopped what they were doing so they could stare at the passing musketeers; curiosity claiming their features rather than concern or sympathy as they rode past quickly.

_No one ever considered what it meant to lead the life of a musketeer, people only cared when their necks__'__ were saved by their quick thinking and brave actions, an applause being their gesture of thanks _Frère acknowledged with no small amount of annoyance.

_But when a musketeer was wounded instead, people started spreading rumours that they were weak and ignorant of threats, that they were just careless, armed heathens__…__all while the musketeer in question lay on his deathbed having dutifully protected his king and country._

Shaking his head disapprovingly at the grimly accurate facts, Frère surged on ahead, not bothering to slow his mount for any people stopping to stare in the street.

_They would move or he would trample them. They simply didn__'__t have time for this._

As was customary within the winding streets or Paris, Frère and his men were forced to slow in their approach to the garrison, as they must push their bulk through the narrow cobblestone alleyways basked in darkness and squeeze between vendors and other stacked lodgings of Paris.

The structures of these such lodgings had long since begun to sag with age at their tops -until they leaned inwards to join the roofs of their neighbours across the street- effectively blotting out the sky in between. All of which transformed many a street into a dimly lit 'tunnel' for the musketeers.

Eyes peeled for an attack at every shadowed corner, Frère felt his heart beating heavily in his ribcage as they ventured ever closer to their intended destination through the dark streets; only taking comfort in the thought that every step forwards would be one more step closer to safety.

And so it was with great relief that the musketeers finally met the grand arch entranceway to the musketeer garrison; their waiting home filled with joyous brothers -a happy sight indeed- as the tired men began to dismount and meet them with broad smiles and open arms.

But alas the happy moment was not to last, as the final riders carefully dismounted from their horses and dragged the bodies of their injured brothers into their arms; struggling to hold their limp, bloodied frames aloft.

This included Frère, as the young man held a tight grip onto the bloodied leather jacket of D'artagnan and hoisted him up and over a shoulder; worried eyes catching the steely blues of Captain Treville as he burst from his office and raced down the wooden stairs to meet them -the courtyard becoming much more quite and solemn as he approached.

With a single glance to his men, Treville began barking out urgent orders to alleviate the stress of the moment.

"Fetch the boy for a physician" Treville called back to Serge as he helped raise Aramis down from the saddle.

He was not above aiding his men, regardless of his higher status and position over them all.

Nodding once, Serge took off back inside to call for their messenger while Treville continued to dish out instructions.

"You men, yes, you four, I want you to set up some vacant beds in the sleeping quarters. I want these men close to our sides from now on… no sense in delivering them to their separate lodgings" he noted, ducking under an arm and slinging his own about Aramis' waist as Frère was doing on the other side.

"The rest of you take up your duties and rotations. I want to be the first to know if and when Bonnet brings Athos back" he confessed grimly, having noted the absence of their final brother among the ones who'd returned.

_They looked like they__'__d had a hell of a time out there__…__what did that mean for Athos?_

Dragging the lax bodies of their comrades across the courtyard towards the lodgings, Treville wasted no time in bursting through the open front door and sweeping across the hearth, past his waiting men inside and over to a freshly made bed to gently deposit Aramis' on the linens; careful to mind his sodden but wrapped shoulder.

It was then that a second man carrying Porthos in through the doors behind him that a lantern was lit in the dim room; the glow casting about the walls and removing their shadows, allowing them to take in the full extent of their brothers' battle wounds.

Despite the benefits that the light brought to the room, Treville quickly wondered if perhaps it had not be the 'brightest' idea as the none too subtle glow shone into the face of Aramis and tore the soldier from his fitful slumber.

Gasping for breath, with eyes wide open and darting around frantically, Aramis managed to half sit up in his new bed before clutching at the pain in his shoulder and glaring at the men about him.

"What have you done!" he shouted hoarsely, as Treville quickly moved to his side and pushed him back into the blankets, holding his hand firmly against Aramis' straining chest.

_They couldn__'__t risk him injuring himself further; even if it meant restraining him._

"Aramis, be calm" Treville soothed, the air of a wizened old father replacing the tense atmosphere for a moment.

"You are safe among friends here. You are _home_" he continued, comfortingly; his deep reassuring voice breaking through his Aramis' seemingly delusional state and he pressed more firmly against his chest, hoping to ground the flailing man.

As an inkling of recognition entered Aramis' pain filled eyes, Treville took a seat on the bed beside his man.

Treville would not leave him like this, even as his brothers were being tended to opposite them, he could not leave.

_Leaving now would be like abandoning ship, it would be like leaving the stranded men aboard to assume that they were going to drown. Leaving would be cruel. They had been apart for far too long as it was._

Treville was going to stay by Aramis' side as much for his own comfort as for the soldier in bed -even if Aramis' mind was less present than his was to find comfort in his presence.

"You should have left me there" Aramis croaked brokenly, tears filling his clouded eyes as his head lolled back tiredly.

Treville felt a painful tug in his chest at the accusation in his mans' voice.

_What had his poor friend endured out there? He was clearly traumatized by something__…__but without knowledge of the incident, he could hardly offer the proper words of comfort to put the man at rest._

"Don't be absurd! We would never abandon you out there" Treville retorted with a frown while his mind grasped at straws as to what his friend had meant.

"Well you should have…I don't deserve to be saved…not after _that_" Aramis whispered hoarsely, his throat thick as he held back the noises that would have accompanied the tears now streaking down his face.

A guilt ridden look of anguish was pouring from his eyes even as he swiped angrily at them with his good arm; still trying to conceal his overwhelming emotions in his vulnerable state.

Trevilles' frown deepened into one of concern at Aramis' words and reached a hand over to the mans swiping arm, gently removing it from his face.

"Aramis, whatever it is you may be struggling through, _I _will help you through it -_we _will all help you through it" Treville promised; a musketeer over his shoulder nodding along with the sentiment, a sad expression on his face over the pity he felt for his tormented brother.

Now unable to hide his face with his arms, Aramis looked away from the men and attempted to roll on his side and eliciting a small howl of pain that erupting from his mouth; the deeply dug channel in his shoulder twisting painfully at the motion and forcing him to clench every muscle in his body just to prevent further sound.

_He could suffer through this pain in silence, he wouldn__'__t want to evoke the sympathy of the others. Not after what he__'__d done._

But Treville was having none of it and so he turned Aramis back over; expression now one of anger at witnessing the unwise actions of his man -but fighting to maintain his reserved manner so he could project a confident, calming aura for the others.

_He knew Aramis would only accept his accusations at this point -and add them to his seemingly high stack of flaws. He was broken up enough already. What he _needed _was support not a lack of._

As the physician leapt into the room to attend D'artagnan; whom was currently in 'first place' for the most grievously wounded and continuing to struggle weakly even now in his half aware state, Treville turned back to the bed, insisting on keeping watch over Aramis.

_He didn__'__t trust him at this point. A troubled mind filled with the bitterness of times past -that could not be undone- always had the motive to accomplish horrifying __'__tasks__'…__ no matter how outrageous they may seem to lucid man._

"You can't help me through this, Captain" Aramis retorted in a slur; eyes downcast and still refusing to meet his commander as he instead eyed D'artagnan across the room, opposite the foot of his bed, who it seemed was still writhing in protest against the arms of his brothers and the physician that attempted to aid him.

_When had he gotten injured!? Why hadn__'__t he helped, again!? Was he really so selfish that he hadn__'__t even noticed his youngest brother taking a shot for him? _

Aramis shook his head and added those dark thoughts to his list of faults.

_At least his brothers were safe _now_…__well almost all of his brothers _Aramis corrected gloomily as he noted Athos had not returned before them.

"Tell me, what happened?" Treville coaxed, bringing Aramis wandering attention back and thankfully gaining it this time.

But Treville became highly disturbed at the look in his mans' eyes, instantly wishing he'd been there to prevent the horrors that Aramis' had undoubtedly witnessed over the past few days_…__ while he had stood guard here__…__ and did nothing._

"Her throat was slit under my protection…" Aramis choked out, taking Treville off guard with the unexpected confession.

He remained quiet as Aramis continued to talk, wondering if this woman was the one Athos had mentioned in his note, "-I was too blinded by my _arrogance_…and she was _killed_…" he added in a raspy voice, tears spilling anew.

Treville patted him on the arm lightly, encouraging him to continue with his difficult tale at his own pace.

_He had not expected Aramis to openly tell him of his haunted experiences but he guessed the strain of carrying it all had finally snapped the man__…__and if sitting here and listening was the kind of therapy that Aramis needed, then he would listen._

"She gave us food and shelter…her husband cared for Porthos…we had begged her to help…" Aramis recalled, eyes swimming but distant as he looked over to Porthos who only appeared to be sleeping on his left now that his colour was restoring and his body healing nicely.

But Aramis knew the truth. _Porthos was not sleeping, the man was recovering from a serious injury…that could have been avoided, no thanks to him on the battle field._

He felt a hand on his chin and allowed his head to be turned back to a fuzzy Treville, a man he had the utmost respect for.

_A man whom had taken him into the regiment when his broken mind had lead him to criminal activities after he had lost Isabelle, his one true love …and despite his misgivings, Treville had _still _taken him in! Trained him up, clothed him, fed him, sheltered him and given him a new goal in life -to serve king and country- __**and **__inadvertently give him a new family._

…_And to repay him, all he__'__d done was go gallivanting off in the wilderness and lose three brothers at once! And then kill some innocent civilians along the way! How dare he! _

Aramis could not meet Trevilles' eyes. No matter how hard he tried or wanted to.

He felt disgraced… ashamed… _disgusted _with himself. He did not and could not accept the sympathetic, caring look Treville was blatantly giving him. _He didn__'__t deserve it._

"Aramis, I have no doubt you have done the best you could on this tragic mission. You _always _do your best -and that is all we can ask for… This woman you speak of knew you to be kind, and because of it, she accepted you into her home, _willingly_" Treville informed.

"_You _did not kill her, her death is on the hands of another _cowardly _man…she was a causality" he finished, hoping his words held some truth and comfort.

But Aramis stubbornly stuck to his woes, shaking his head slightly, his vision beginning to fade out at the edges once more as his shoulder pulsed in agony as the healer by his side began her ministrations.

He hadn't noticed her, until now. He didn't want to be around women right now…it reminded him too much of…_her_.

Aramis daren't look, he couldn't stand the similarities and felt he may vomit at the sight of oozing blood and bloodied needles.

_There was a reason _he _was always the medic- besides his bountiful knowledge of human anatomy- he knew he liked the control… could rely on himself to know that what he was doing was helping. And the best part -he could only feel the _mental _pains of the fallen, as bad as that was…but never the _physical _pains._

_Physical pains left you without wits and control…and it scared him half to death... Uselessness wasn't a desirable trait for any man, especially a lowly soldier._

_But this, this experience was _agony _-both mental and physical- as his brothers lay either side of him, dead or dying, and he could do _nothing _to save them -for he too was incapacitated by the fire that was his shoulder. And it was all thanks to his unforgivably atrocious behaviour. _

Aramis both hated and loved it.

_He deserved this _-Aramis thought again; the harsh words were becoming his new mantra.

Treville sighed in exasperation at Aramis' evasive and pained expression, he could do no more for him now.

_Perhaps his brothers could knock some sense into him -when they weren__'__t fighting for their lives._

Glancing away from Aramis, Treville suddenly noticed that an eerie stillness had descended upon the room due to the silence of Porthos and D'artagnan.

The boy had been subdued shortly after his outburst moments ago, to leave the men in a shushed state while the physicians concentrated on their tasks of cleansing the mens' wounds and following through with delicate needle work.

Based on Aramis' ramblings, Treville reasoned that the brothers had split up from the farmhouse for some reason _-as Aramis had not mentioned Athos__'…__death… and so he must still be wandering out there. _Treville could only hope.

Gathering from the most up to date information, Treville took in the facts that they had been taken into a second sanctuary and had Porthos' treated once more. He guessed that it was here that Aramis and his brothers' had encountered some assailants -as it would explain his _indirect _involvement in the hostesses' murder.

_Considering the number of injuries the three men sported, it was fair to say there had been a fare few assailants roaming around__…__ so he supposed Athos had been in the clear from them for now__…__and with Bonnet at his side, they should arrive without having suffered any harm._

As for these three, Treville knew Frère could no doubt fill him in about the final details regarding how D'artagnan had been injured and how exactly they had found the boys -and then carried them home.

_It was all piecing back together. Slowly._

Trevilles' distant gaze returned back to Aramis to find he had passed out at some point but was still twitching slightly under the work of the woman knitting up his wound.

Standing slowly, Treville turned from the bed and padded quietly over to Frère who waited in the corner of the room; a troubled look on his face as he stared at the young, fitfully sleeping Gascon now wrapped in thick bandages.

The boy was standing by his side, pulling at the neck of his new uniform nervously; _this was all new to him._

Treville forced a light smile as the boys' worried gaze drifted over to him as he approached; ruffling his hair slightly as he faced Frère and nodded to the door.

_It was time they leave, they could discuss this further in his office, _no need to wake them_._

As they walked through the open door and out into the fading light, Treville ushered them back towards the balcony that lead to his office; tapping the boy lightly on the shoulder as they went; his cue to return back to Serge.

With a nod, he darted off; eager to return to the safe, more light hearted confines of the cooks quarters.

_Bleeding musketeers lying everywhere was not something he was comfortable with._

Treville opened the door to his office wide, and allowed Frère to enter first; sighing tiredly as he moved to take a seat behind his worn, ornate desk and cricked his neck at the tension building there before clasping his hands and leaning forwards expectantly.

Frère immediately filled him in on their mission, informing him of Bonnets' plan to split up and search the area faster under the grim knowledge that towns' were being ravaged in the assailants frantic search to find their brothers first.

From here, it was the small, painful matter of recounting how they had turned back to spy a burning home; bodies strewn everywhere -including that of their brothers- and then D'artagnan had _attacked _them…_and he had shot the boy__…_

Frère could hardly get the confession out, eyes glued to his boots as his stomach churned and the tense feeling of each hair pricking up to stand on end as his body flooded with a numbing ice.

_Surely, Treville would cast him out now. He had shot one of their own. Almost killed him! They didn__'__t accept __'__would be murderers__'__ along the ranks of the regiment__…__he would be back on the streets soon enough. And then there was also the matter of apologizing to D'artagnan, who might try to kill him in a more 'fair' duel._

Frère gulped thickly, clenching and unclenching his gloved fists in his lap beneath the desk where they couldn't be seen as he waited for the final verdict from his captain.

Unfortunately for Frère he couldn't avoid the feeling of the heavy gaze on his bowed head as Treville remained silent.

After a few more intense seconds went by, Frère let out a choked sigh and began to rise from his seat.

_If his captain didn__'__t have the heart to dismiss him, he would do it himself._

"Where are you going?" the nonplussed question came at his back, forcing him to turn with dread.

"Leaving, sir. I will remove my possessions from my quarters just as soon as I return my weapons to the smith" Frère informed him regretfully; voice wavering with emotion as he kept his head bowed.

Treville shook his head with dismay and almost rolled his eyes, "Sit and stop being so fool hardy, son. I do not intend to _relieve _you of your duties…I am merely contemplating Athos' 'disappearance'" he stated, worry clear in his voice.

Frère couldn't help but let go of the breath he had been holding and lean unsteady hands onto the back of his chair, emotions running wild.

"But sir, I told you I-" he began, confusion showing through wild gestures, but Treville cut him off with the wave of his hand.

"I know what you told me, and I also know you acted under the assumption that there was an armed man heading for one of our men" Treville stated matter-of-factly; Frères' face turning to one of awe.

"You _saved _his life -even if you had to shoot D'artagnan to do it... The boy was understandably not in his right mind, son, you would have had to do something…even if you'd known his identity" Treville finished grimly, doing his best to comfort the younger man.

"I'm sure D'artagnan will understand" he added, knowing what the man would think of next. Frère didn't seem completely convinced at this particular sentence though and hovered about awkwardly.

_Everyone was seemingly traumatized by this disastrous mission _Treville speculated, another tired sigh breaking forth as he massaged a temple.

_When was the last time he had slept? He couldn__'__t even remember._

"Oh, uh…thank you? -sir…" Frère fumbled, not sure how to respond to having been told his reactions were the right ones, yet of _somewhat _bad consequences.

"Leave me, please. I need to think" Treville suddenly requested, quietly; eyes back to the piece of parchment Athos had sent and critically analyzing the meaning of each word -trying to decipher new 'in-depth' meanings from the message in hopes of figuring out why Athos had parted from his brothers.

_The woman! It had to be__…__.he had gone back for her?__…__ But why? Did it have something to do with why the three brothers had left so suddenly -even though they__'__d needed further aid for Porthos on their journey… who must still have been sick?_

_Had the assailants driven them from their sanctuary? But then was Athos and the woman now? He thought the boys had killed off the assailants at the gruesome showdown at the second home -that had almost cost them their lives__…_

Too many questions, too few answers.

Treville decided he would wait until the boys woke up once more and see if they could shed any light on this dismal situation.

Until then he would try to get some rest, he wouldn't accomplish anything else by sitting in his office at all hours of the night…_even if his dreams would be plagued by the same worries as to where Athos had gone. _

Treville knew none of the men, himself included, would truly be able to relax until their final brother returned.

_They needed Athos back home._

**Awww, sad I know. The whole chapter was :/ But hey, at least the brothers aren****'****t dying out in the middle of nowhere! Now they****'****re home and getting aid!**

**And you****'****re going to have to wait for the 'Athos/family reunion' we all know is coming! Sorry! -But we need to check back in on Porter -he****'****s not exactly 'down for the count' now is he? **

**Good villains are always too stubborn for that ): )**

**Anyways, please leave a review and let me know what you thought! It took me a while to flesh this out****…****I only had bare bones to lay this chapter out, thus the wait. Lol. Until next time!**


	27. To Run Amok

**So I know you guys don****'****t exactly want to see Porter but there can****'****t be an epic final showdown if I don****'****t explain what he****'****s been up to****…****whoops****…****did I just say that ;) Why yes, I believe I did. Hopefully that motivates you to read this! lol**

***FYI- This passage occurs throughout the 'on-goings' of the brothers***

**Enjoy!**

Porters' mount jostled him in the saddle once more for what felt like the _hundredth _time; forcing a gasp of pain from his mouth and refocusing his senses just long enough to curse the stupid beast beneath him.

_He hated animals. Hated children. Hated Women. Hated musketeers….there really wasn't much left to hate right now besides the blinding pain in his side. _Porter let his head droop back down to his chest again in exhaustion and continued to think things over.

He was hardly paying attention to where he directed the horses' feet now; the unstable underbrush of ruts, stones, twigs and branches tripping it often and bumping him around in the saddle as its hooves stumbled for possession on the earth.

But Porter didn't have enough wits left to care nor correct the dependent, naïve creature on where to step and where not to step; his blood loss was catching up to him as the minutes rolled into an hour, leaving his brain addled and his senses numbed like his limbs.

All he could do was moan, groan, curse and think about the dying musketeer and whore of a woman he'd left back there in the forest.

He was starting to think maybe it hadn't been worth sneaking up on them…that he should have just shot him in the back, carried her off and be done with it. _He certainly wouldn__'__t be suffering now if he__'__d stuck to that plan._

_Nevertheless, they were dead and he was riding off into the sunset -_or rather- sweet smelling afternoon in pursuit of an unsuspecting farmhouse he could steal medical supplies from and hole up in for a while.

_There he would bide his time, restore his strength and plan his next course of action. _

Porter realized he would have to meet up with his men soon -but he could always push that forwards if he couldn't reach their meeting position in time…_if he could find it that is…and if they hadn't stumbled across the musketeers first..._

_After all, he was in charge, he could take all the time he pleased._

As the hedging of black fuzz began to outline his vision once more, Porter thought he spotted a black form moving horizontally across the meadows ahead.

_Strange, it had many legs__…_

Porter grunted with effort and swung back on the reigns, forcing his beast -and the one behind- to come to a stop so he could focus his efforts on titling his head and inspecting the somewhat fuzzy form.

_It seemed the black, ten legged thing had spotted him -for now it was turning in his direction and it was coming quickly._

"Damn it, I will not run!" Porter slurred hoarsely at _'__the thing__'_as loud as he could manage as his eyes widened slightly in alarm, fumbling for his pistol.

_He was no coward - much like that musketeer who had tried to hide. He would stand and fight!_

_Those filthy musketeer scum would turn tail and run if they'd been here, but not I. I'm a man of strength and will power. I will not be struck down like a peasant _and with that arrogant thought, Porter spat on the ground and braced himself for the attack.

The lumbering dark form quickly came over the rise and the blurred edges began to take on more distinct shapes of bodies on horses; clad in black and armed to the teeth.

_His men! Thank god! _Porter lowered his pistol and gave a sigh of relief_._

_He could've still took them on, no doubt about that! But he was glad he wouldn't have to waist his efforts…_

The ten men on horseback came to an abrupt stop just in front of their captain; panting slightly through the dust storm they had created in their wake that now consumed the area as it caught up to them.

Swiping at the air and hacking out a painful cough as he held his sticky ribs together, Porter growled at his men in annoyance.

_Just when he thought something was about to go right -and they try to suffocate him with dirt powder! Great! Just fabulous!_

_Imbeciles. He was working with complete and utter imbeciles._

Glaring as best he could in the bright light of the sun -without a hat- and trying to make eye contact with his rolling eyes, Porter coughed once more and began the conversation.

"I see you did not find the musketeers" he rasped icily, hand moving away from his ribs so it would not attract too much attention from his men. _Wounds meant you were vulnerable, that you were desperate. Weak._

One brave man dared to nudge his mount closer to address their master; his tricorne hat topping a full head of dark hair that was strung with odd jewels -these shiny trinkets continuing down past his deeply tanned, pock marked face into his pointy beard and hang off the ends absurdly below- creating the look of an 'inland pirate' in Porters' hazy mind.

He chuckled at the hilarious sight of his man trying to look tough; oblivious to his lack in taste or style and began to imagine the man had rather dunked his face into a treasure chest and walked around afterwards without noticing. He chuckled all the more at the thought.

After a moment, Porter realized that his absentminded chuckling had drawn looks of confusion and concern from his men.

Perhaps it was the blood loss messing with his sense of humour, but he'd needed a good laugh, so he didn't pay them any mind.

_Who cares what they thought, _he _was the captain! _He _could chuckle as much as he damn well pleases!__…__or he would simply behead them and chuckle all the more afterwards._

"We was comin' back 'round to find ya -been following yuh muddled tracks for _hours _now…thought we'd cut yuh off so as not to scare yuh" the pirate man exclaimed -to Porters' annoyance; and completely sidestepping the musketeer statement.

Flushing lightly; for there was little blood left to accomplish such a task, Porter clenched his fists through the embarrassment that they'd been stalking him.

Coughing once more to stall them, Porter felt anger take over his emotions and decided to turn their attention to a different route of thought.

"You've been following me for hours! And yet, you did not think to aid me in taking down that musketeer!?"

Porters' glares could have rivalled hungry hellhounds at this point, and no one could match or hold his gaze. Proud to have made them feel inferior, Porters' embarrassment instantly vanished, this new kind of therapy leading him to continue with his accusations.

"-Even when he _STABBED _me!?" Porter roared, hoarsely; fingers turning to claws as he gestured wildly at his men.

There was a tense silence before pirate man spoke up again, his voice slightly squeakier than before, "…Well we di'nt wanna interfere, cap'n… thought you could 'andle it" he trailed off, eyes darting about.

Adrenaline shooting through his fatigued body as he rage boiled up inside, Porter decided to take a more sinister approach in teaching his men; this time taking the edge in his voice to a whisper and glaring through his brows to let his message sink in; hoping to knock some sense into them before he passed out.

"Well, _next time _you see the enemy taking advantage of my position -and forcing me down into the dirt to ruin my clothes, KILL THEM!" Porter's voice now screamed; his soft whispers now a deafening shriek that forced them to lean back.

They all nodded furiously, eyes downcast as they avoided his fiery glares.

After a moment of pained panting, Porter saw that the dark tunnel vision he had momentarily cast aside, was now working to 'restore itself' and cloud his vision.

_Damn it. He had not wanted to reveal his sorry predicament …but now it seemed he must confess his situation -if only to a certain few- so they may find somewhere to plug up his frustratingly leaky side._

He beckoned the now extremely nervous 'pirate man' forwards with a crooked finger; the rest of the men hanging back patiently -if not out of sheer terror alone.

"I seem to have been struck by that damned man…the damage is not too bad but I _am _in require of some aid…" Porter whispered into the mans' ear; holding his gaze as steadily as he could when he leaned back to share a look of concern.

Pirate man -as Porter was now fully resorting to calling him- glanced around quickly after the short passing of words -whether it was to see if the men had noticed or was looking for a shelter- Porter had no idea. His mind was becoming too fuzzy to care.

"Well, we ruined a home a-ways back… di'n't light it cuz we killed the lot…thought it might've come in 'andy…which is 'as" he added smugly, nodding once to the men behind him.

"Come on lads, we're gonna go back to that 'ome… the cap'n is feelin' a lil' -tired" the pirate man lied, convincingly; receiving the faintest of nods from Porter in appreciation of his discretion.

And so with that, the troop turned back and rode over the hills, through the golden meadows and past the dismal forest for at least another half hour.

Porter was beginning to think his body could ride no more -and to make matters worse, the blasted stallion he was tugging behind him was being 'difficult.' It had never liked him to begin with, after he'd taken it from the forest, and it was now putting up a fuss as it trailed behind him; jerking back once in a while to slow his own mount.

Porter promised himself he would not put the beast down -it was much too good a prize for that…besides, he wanted to ride it back into Paris to greet the musketeers' brothers.

_He wanted them to recognize the stallion, wanted them to know what he__'__d done so that he could dispatch them from the world, knowing he had killed their friend._

And so the bullet remained in the barrel and not in the beasts flank… but patience was a virtue and it was running out.

"O'er there!" pirate man called suddenly, snapping Porter from his lazy trance of staring at the ground absently.

Swinging his heavy head up and squinting across the land, Porter spotted the half hidden home in the brush; already seeing from their position, the few bodies laying sprawled around in front of the home. _Some were smaller__…__.children?_

_Oh whatever! As long as there__'__s food and stitches I don__'__t give a toss what happened to them _Porter grumbled silently.

As they approached the small home and eventually dismounted, the men took to quickly scouring about the area once more while Porter gingerly dismounted and hobbled over to the broken in, front door.

_You could never be too careful._

Raising his pistol as he entered, Porter managed to do a brief sweep with his eyes for anyone who could present a threat.

There was nothing and the place was silent.

_Good._

Porter stumbled into the dining room, knocking some idle bowls and plates aside and plonking himself down; swiping the idle bottle up that sat by the half eaten meals and downing what was left.

_Ah, that was better. Something to numb the pain, at last._

Eventually his men stumbled in after Porter; some taking to their own personal fancies of raiding the house for any trinkets they may have missed the first time round while a man known to be good with a thread, took to his side and did his best to sow the wound in his side before wrapping it up with a fancy sash.

_It would have to do. As long as it didn__'__t get infected, he would heal just fine... Now all that was left was a little chat with his men, some food and a new plan._

" 'ere you are, sir" pirate man offered, tossing a manner of foods across the table and plopping down across the table from him and grabbing at the items hungrily before stuffing them in just as other men, milling around, noticed the food and swaggered over to stuff some down their gullets too.

Porter rolled his eyes at the barbaric display.

_He missed the sense of decency and manners of his golden days. The sophistication of numerous servings as a meal progressed, the calm, quite servants and hand maidens rushing around to attend to your every whim._

_And now there were just rugged, smelly dirty pigs flying at one another, stuffing down dry biscuits, bread, vegetables and assortments of stale cheeses in a random house in the fields. Great._

Putting a hand to his chin to prop up his head, Porter nibbled half heartedly on a biscuit.

His side throbbed again and caught his attention, noting that it didn't feel as bad as it had almost two hours ago, now.

_He reckoned he could put up a fight if he had to__…__perhaps they should stay here overnight and ride towards Paris come dawn?_

"Ech Hem!" Porter coughed loudly; he wanted to tell them the new plan.

The cough received not so much as a second glance as his men continued to cheer and squabble loudly around mouths full of half eaten food, chunks spraying everywhere.

A particularly nasty glob of half eaten carrot suddenly flew from a mans' mouth and landed on the end of Porters' nose.

Absolutely disgusted, Porter shrank back from the table as if his retreat would remove the carrot and hesitantly flicked at the orange, drool ridden lump; sending it sailing away, back into the flailing arms.

He glared at the man whose mouth was full of carrot and pried off a glove. Standing to his feet cautiously, Porter moved the few paces over to the man and viciously slapped the unsuspecting victim harshly upside the head.

The man howled out in both pain and surprise and effectively interrupted the jovial atmosphere and merry noises emitted in the small room, causing a sudden hush.

Porter made sure to glare at each and every one of them as they looked to him; forcing them back from the table of food with his eyes alone before taking his seat once more -his stiff body language holding their audience as it made clear he was about to address the room.

"In case you haven't noticed-" Porter began, glaring at his clasped fists on the table; his lack of visual communication drawing in the focus of any who dared to look away, "-we have a musketeer problem on our hands!" he seethed quietly, looking back up to his men.

"Er' 'bout that… we may 'ave more problems…" pirate man interrupted; shuffling in his seat awkwardly and fiddling nervously with a vegetable on the table as Porter dragged his gaze over.

"_What_?" Porter demanded, teeth bared in a snarl.

"A'fore we reached you, like we did, we took back to the farm we burnt -you know, the one with those wenches hidin' out in? Well they wusnt there, an' our three men was dead, stabbed" the pirate informed hastily, observing Porters' angry demeanour as it rose to its breaking point.

"They were what!" Porter growled, disbelief in his tone.

All eyes went back to gaze expectantly at the pirate man who shuffled again under the burden of it all.

"Uh, they was dead…" he repeated, ducking his head so he could continue without having to see Porters' molten expression, "- an' it doesn't end there…" he added with a gulp.

Porters' eyes flicked back up to his mans,' daring him to talk.

"Well…as we di'n't know exactly where you was…we kept on ridin' to the meetin' spot and when you wusn't there either, we took after the other group you sent 'round over yonder…an'…..an' ..uh…they was dead too" he mumbled, the room becoming deadly silent.

No one even breathed as Porter digested the truth.

_The musketeer scum had killed off his men!? How!?_

"So's we was headed back to let you's know an' followed your tracks in the woods…we found a lot of blood, but we di'n't see you… then we went a-looking' …an' …well, you know the rest" he grumbled, scratching the back of his dirty neck and fiddling with the beads of jewellery.

Porter sat stock still, feeling somewhat numb as his eyes locked onto the table, unseeing; his mind drifted back to process what this meant, and thus, what should be done.

_So the other three had managed to escape__…__that would explain why he__'__d only found one left in the woods. _

_And now he was being told there had only been bloodshed in the forest… why hadn't they mentioned the dead musketeer?_

"Were there any strangers bodies in the woods when you got there?" Porter demanded with a hiss, the men shook their heads in unison. _No_. Porter slammed his fist down on the table making the food jump up and startling his men and cursed loudly.

Breathing heavily through his nostrils -not unlike a raging bull- Porter bit his lip in further thought.

_But he had killed him! Left his pathetic carcass to rot! How!?_

_And then of course his men, his __**fifteen **__men couldn__'__t even handle the musketeers__'__**three **__escapee brothers!_

…_Perhaps he__'__d been too hasty in judging their abilities__…__ They had evaded -and survived- his initial attack after all__…_

_Well, he__'__d just have to double his efforts then! _

_He knew they__'__d rejoin each others__'__ company -and presently be hiding back at their garrison now that they had killed his second party- like the cowards they were__…__So, he would have to follow…and do some __'__recruiting__' along the way it seemed._

There was no way in hell he was giving up on his plans to wipe them from the earth.

_Leave something alive, leave a stone unturned and it became so much more__…__it gained strength and numbered, it festered and grew until you couldn__'__t possibly overcome it._

_But he was no fool either, he couldn__'__t just charge into that musketeer infested hole without enough men to overcome their numbers. Admittedly, musketeers were skilled fighters -so he__'__d just have to find better, more desperate fighters!_

Showing a determined and somewhat brave face for his men, Porter filled them in on their new mission angle; telling them to rest up for the night, check their supplies and, come dawn, set off for Paris.

_They could acquire more than willing fighters and desperate men willing to fight the musketeers for very little charge in the court of miracles. _

_That lowly, criminal infested subdivision of the country would surely provide his army with the bloodthirsty numbers he would need to fight off the musketeers. _

_Skill didn__'__t matter when you had numbers, and he had enough pretty pennies to persuade them to fight for him -even if he didn__'__t intend to pay all of them, it wouldn__'__t matter- they wouldn__'__t all live to know they__'__d been used and crossed._

Porter began to smile with sickening delight as he imagined the gruesome deaths of the musketeers by his blade only a day from now. _He would trample their cold corpses with his new stallion and slit the throats of the weak. _

_He could overtake Paris itself if he expanded the court of miracles into the defeated garrison; perhaps even take on the red guards__…__there weren__'__t _that _many of them._

Porters' mind continued to branch off into thought of what he could do with his newfound powers, his army of warriors at his disposal. _What a brilliant plan he had created! He was a genius!_

Grinning broadly, Porters' attitude did an immediate turn about and he raised a new bottle of wine in a toast to his men; who looked a little more than disturbed by his seemingly bipolar behaviour.

"A toast -to our victory tomorrow!" Porter boomed, standing slightly so he could fill a few empty goblets and thrust them into trembling fingers.

"Drink!" he ordered, and they did, nervous smiles breaking out to appease their absurd captain.

It was a grand idea, and it might work but no one wanted to really invest their lives into this plan.

The musketeer regiment were the kings' personal guards for a reason. They were tenacious, fierce, loyal and skilled fighters. Some of them may not see another dawn past the one tomorrow.

But Porter paid it no mind, he was in a much lighter mood now. Whether the alcohol had a part in that or not, Porter and his men spent a merry time blundering around their temporary establishment; telling tales, sharpening knives, eating their fill, urinating on the carpet and walls, smashing plates and setting fire to trees outside just to watch them sparkle when the day turned to dusk.

They were in it for the long haul but Porter could wait. He wanted his men high spirited and rested. It would mean they were bonded and less likely to turn against his plans at the last moment.

_Bonds meant strength and wine meant courage. If they could follow his orders in this battle tomorrow, he was sure they would prevail -his soon to be criminal comrades adding to the merry band. Perhaps he should free some convicted felons while he was at it? It wouldn__'__t hurt his chances__…__it may even distract the musketeers. _

Porter mulled it over as he propped his dirty boots up against the window sill and watched the fading light outside; flinching slightly but grinning once more when a mirror was shattered to his right.

Looking over, he caught his reflection grinning madly back at him; the cracks of the mirror distorting his demonic features slightly and twisting them into something more of a monster.

Porter cackled. _It was good if he looked like a monster. It stopped others from challenging him and made him memorable._

_He wanted the musketeers to remember this face when he slaughtered them underfoot, wanted it printed into the back of their eyes forever as they were dragged down to hell._

He would enjoy tomorrow greatly. Porter smiled ruefully and took another sip of wine, watching his men in amusement as they played with lit candles.

_A sign of hope for their endeavours if there ever was one._

**Some lovely brewing going on, and this time its not broth just a cliff-hanger. Next is our beloved family reunion, I****'****ll do my best to make it sweet and leave out the carrots- for Athos****'**** sake! Loving the play on words right now…**

**-Let me just say, you have noooo idea how close Alf & family came to being killed in this, though I did hint at familiar bowls and such just to tease you ;) ****…****I was soooo tempted for that family to be the ones where Porter and his men had ravaged and 'camped' at but for once I decided not to kill off saviours. Have a heart, right? Well I left them with theirs ;) **

**Anyways, please leave them with a review!**


	28. The Awakening pt 1

**Thanks for the reviews! Glad that last chapter went off alright! I know you are all waiting for Athos -and he is in the end of this chapter- but I am showing the 3 brothers first, with quite a lot of angst I might add! **

**This was such a long chapter (23 pages) to write and edit around my long day, thus the last midnight update ;) I HAD to multi update this because of its size, so I hope it still flows smoothly, it should.**

**Bare with me, I know this one is mostly sad, but I promise it turns out alright -because that****'****s how we get to the happy reunion part!**

**Anyways, Enjoy!**

The evening was warring on and yet there had been no sign of Athos returning with Bonnet and his men; the setting glow of the red summer sun lighting the skies over the Paris rooftops and casting out a beautiful array of purples, pinks and blues -as if in protest to the gloom filled hearts of the musketeer regiment below.

There was nothing more they could do but sit and tend to their fitfully sleeping comrades as they waited for their final brothers' return…or the news that he wasn't coming home.

The crushing questions that burrowed deep holes into the minds of the men and wore heavily on their shoulders would not allow peace of any sort that evening.

Even as the streets became devoid of civilians and beckoned at the merry nightlife to stir from their dwellings and head for the local taverns, the musketeers persevered at their posts; sitting silently and unmoving under the cooling winds of night, remaining where they had sat all day.

Loyal to a fault.

Though the crisp dusk air and setting sun created a somewhat tranquil atmosphere over the courtyard to soothe the worrying men, there were no such distractions to be offered for the three brothers who lay, suffering, inside the shadowed walls of the regiments' 'sick quarters.'

_It would be a long night indeed _Treville acknowledged, gloomily, from his lofty post on the outdoor balcony; steely blue eyes scanning his motionless men from above with distaste.

_It was eerie how they sat; like vultures watching the entranceway to the courtyard, ready to leap up and devour information that might lead them to Athos should he not enter to greet them. _Treville shivered.

He had checked on his injured boys once or twice over the course of a few hours, but still, they had not woken.

_Better to let them rest__…__Athos could very well return before they awoke -and therefore answer all his worrisome questions, personally. _

…_There was always a chance that his lieutenant was on his way back home already__…__ just about to turn up at any moment; his face as smug as ever as he offered up that mocking salute -knowing it would rub his captain the wrong way. _

Treville sighed, _But Athos could also be sat out there, lost -and abandoned__…_

_They could only wait on him for so long before they had to put a stop to the searches. _

He couldn't afford to waste the manpower -nor could he keep the mens' hopes up under a false pretence- and it cut him to the quick. _If his man didn__'__t show up soon__…_

Turning back to his office, Treville opened the door to the darkness and shuffled inside.

At least his quarters were free from the heart wrenching moans of the ward below…he could hardly stand their sight let alone their sounds -mostly because he knew there was nothing more he could do.

Treville uncorked a bottle of wine and took a long swig; fiddling with the papers on his desk until he found Athos' note once more; the creases in the paper having become worn with constant use thanks to his worrying.

It was becoming a habit now; reading the familiar scrawl, knowing the graceful hand that had scrawled it so elegantly could now be stiffened with rigor mortis somewhere among the darkened fields.

Treville shook his head in denial. _No, he wouldn't accept his man was dead until he saw it with his own eyes._

But if he was not, that same question would come back to haunt him.

_Where was Athos?_

Treville took another long swig and reread the note, again.

**~o0o~**

Meanwhile, down in the sleeping quarters a certain injured brother was beginning to wake from his dreams; his blurry eyes blinking against the soft candlelight as he took in the familiar settings.

_But how had he got here? _

The last thing Porthos remembered was a flaming door at the foot of his bed and D'artagnan bursting through it to save him.

Porthos vaguely recalled the nauseating feeling of falling and then an intense heat…

_Had he dragged him out of a window!?_

But now it was gone, it was all gone, and he was presently lying in a freshly made bed, back at the garrison.

_How?_

Hissing slightly at the painful jab his back omitted as he made to sit up against his pillows, Porthos took a curious glance around the room -taking in the fact that the sun was now setting and there were no men present -bar his two sleeping brothers.

_D__'__artagnan it seemed had somehow injured himself too _Porthos realized with distress; his eyes roving over the clean, white linen bandages that covered the boys' twitching stomach muscles even as he continued to sleep fitfully in his bed, opposite the foot of his own.

_Somebody had hurt the boy… Somebody was going to __**pay**__. With their life._

…But Porthos was going to need answers first.

Regardless of the fact he could barely stand on his own two feet, without answers, Porthos would be walking willy-nilly throughout the streets of France, knocking down the doors of the innocent in a poor attempt to find the man who'd done it.

_He had morals, he couldn__'__t do that, yet._

_So what had happened to him, to all of them? Perhaps Aramis could tell him, since it appeared Athos had still not returned._

Porthos scowled at the thought of Athos but turned over to his sleeping friend none-the- less.

It was in doing so that Porthos noticed Aramis too had been injured somehow; his left shoulder now sporting some neatly wrapped bandages that descended down around his upper ribs for support and receded out of view under the blankets.

From such a close range, Porthos also had the unfortunate advantage of observing the dark circles that had formed bags under his friends eyes; hinting of sleepless nights filled with stressful thoughts.

He _had done this to his brothers. _

He _had been a burden in his useless state and it had cost them. _He _was meant to watch their backs -and yet he had been stupid enough to leave his own open for attack! …And they had all suffered the consequences of his carelessness._

Porthos shook his head and closed his eyes in an attempt to blot out the harshly accurate facts -his mind searching for answers of what he had done and what had happened to them; his hazy memory conjuring flashes of golden meadows, a womans face, his brothers faces, then more meadows, more strangers faces, more meadows and now he was home.

_None of it made any sense! _There were too many large gaps in between to piece this together himself.

And so Porthos took a deep breath and buried his guilt down low in his gut.

_He could wallow in it later, apologize to them all, later. But right now he needed answers -and therefore Aramis would have to provide them. _

In Porthos' mind he looked much better off in comparison to D'artagnan -at least his 'non lethal' wounds would allow him _some _lucidity and movement; Porthos highly doubted the man couldn't handle something he'd had the unfortunate experience of dealing with many times before.

Leaning over gingerly; a hand pressed to his aching side, Porthos gently prodded Aramis' chest and made sure to leave his palm there so should his brother wake in the throes of a nightmare, he could ground him with comfort.

But Aramis' didn't so much as twitch. In fact he appeared dead to the world, eerily so.

Porthos prodded Aramis a few times more, becoming more and more persistent with his worry until _finally _he earned a slight shiver from his friends body -the natural disturbance causing his brothers' eyes to roll under their lids and his brow to crease in the tell tale sign of awakening.

_It seemed none of them were having an easy time of this _Porthos observed, unhappily.

With a slight moan and roll of his head against the pillows, Aramis' shining brown eyes slid open.

They seemed unfocused at first as the man gathered his wits, but slowly, they came to their sharpened senses and began darting around the room.

Porthos waited patiently for his brothers' acknowledgement before he started to ask him questions. _He had been through enough, the least he could do is give him a moment to get his bearings._

It seemed that this had not been the wisest idea, however, since Aramis began to pant loudly as an expression of overwhelming anguish took over his handsome features.

Porthos frowned deep with concern and reached a cautious arm out to his lost brother; fretting that if he did not interfere soon, Aramis may do something drastic.

But despite Porthos' good intentions, through Aramis' eyes, he had just been delivered from hellish nightmares into a new, more haunted reality -the images of a recently deceased woman and her smiling assailants swimming before his bed momentarily before fading into the background and leaving his gut churning with remorse.

As he jerked himself up, Aramis' shoulder wound alerted him of its fiery aches and pains and causing him to look over to examine the agonizing reminder of that fateful night. Instead, Aramis noticed a pair of troubled dark brown eyes looking back at him.

Had he held a weapon of any sort, he was sure his brother would have been dead in a split second, but as he had not, Aramis let out a startled cry and instantly leapt back on his bed -tittering on its edge as he lost his balance.

Reflexes acting before he could think, Porthos grabbed Aramis flailing wrist and pulled him back upright; the unfortunate circumstances meaning he had accidentally yanked on his friends injured arm and jarred his shoulder.

Letting out a deep groan at the pulsating torment that was now his shoulder, Aramis allowed himself to be jolted forwards back into bed and rest heavily against two hands that now held his bowing chest aloft.

Righting his balance and gritting his teeth, Aramis forced himself to sit up in his bed ready to glare up to his 'saviour' when he realized what this meant.

Expression fading to one of a brighter smile as his heart fluttered in his chest, Aramis' mind registered -for the first time- that his sick brother, Porthos, was _awake _and watching him!

He hardly stopped to think about his brothers concerned stares as his medical mind surveyed his well being; noting the look of exhaustion and hand to his side.

_But he was alive and well _-for the most part- _and in the safety of their own home. That was satisfying enough for him!_

_Thank the lord for small mercies _Aramis breathed; relief washing through his system.

Porthos returned the bright smile easily; his concern dripping away as Aramis seemed to recover his wits and return back into his old self; the nostalgic normalcy of the moment bringing warmth into his heart.

But Porthos had questions… and so the greetings would have to wait.

"What happened?" Porthos ventured quietly -so as not to wake D'artagnan- but cutting straight to the point. He didn't have the patience to wait any longer.

Aramis' smile faded just as quickly to be replaced with a slightly haunted expression; the sudden shift in atmosphere causing Porthos to feel cold inside.

"A lot has happened, my friend" Aramis pointed out the obvious; skirting around the question as he looked over at their sleeping friend in concern and confirming that he had probably been the cause of his injuries.

_D__'__artagnan had still managed to rescue them both -while injured. _Aramis hung his head in shame.

_He had overburdened the boy -and he had paid the price. _Aramis hated himself for it.

"Aramis, I want to know" Porthos pressured, fingers gripping his arms lightly but firmly to force his attention back to his demands.

Aramis looked back over to Porthos reluctantly and sighed; his range of miserable expressions becoming more and more intense as the seconds wore on.

"What do you remember?" he asked lightly, forcing Porthos to recline slightly and think about that for a second.

_He was going to be hard pressed to find the courage to admit that he had almost gotten all of his brothers killed out there__…__and caused the death of an innocent woman along the way__…__But, if that__'__s what his brother wanted to hear, then so be it. _

Aramis only hoped he wouldn't shun and reject him afterwards…_he could never be sure until he told the man._

"I remember meadows and a woman and-" Porthos began but was abruptly cut off by a ghastly scream that made both men jump and wince in unison, whipping their heads around to witness D'artagnan bolt upright from his bed, eyes wide open in terror; face a mixture of agony and misery as he clutched at his middle.

_He had been trapped again, held down by new arms and sinister shadows that brought him only pain and suffering. It was all too familiar, but this time his brothers had been missing._

D'artagnan had not seen his brothers again before the darkness had claimed him but they had been present in his dreams; running with him through the darkness as they tried to escape the shadows and fire that raced alongside at their flanks -its tendrils stroking at their backs and snatching at their ankles as it tried to swipe them down and drag them back.

D'artagnan had only just managed to escape -but his brothers hadn't…

And so he'd turned back, ready to dive into the flames and pull them to safety when all of a sudden Athos had appeared in front of him; his pale and hovering corpse blocking his path.

Athos had swooped at him, daggers in hand, heading straight for his face!

He had begged, pleaded, cowered even. _He just wanted his brothers back! Why had Athos attacked him!? Was it a sign? That because he had failed to save him, save his brothers__'__ that Athos had come back from the dead to claim him in the afterlife? _

Just as the dagger had neared his eyes, D'artagnan had woken up and let loose with a petrified scream; the shadows sitting across from him in his bed, pausing in their conspiratorial whispers and turning around to face him.

D'artagnan quickly identified the features of his brothers in the half light but remained still where he sat.

He couldn't trust that what he was seeing was real, not after _that_.

_He knew now that Athos had been part of a nightmare, that there were no flaming demons at his back and that his brothers were not in danger__…_

But the last thing D'artagnan could remember was dozens of hands pressing him down on him, stopping him as he desperately fought to save his brothers from the shadows.

There had been pain, screams and then darkness…_he must have been killed! _

_This must be his own version of hell then -now that he was dead__…__ But could you even dream in hell?!_

D'artagnan supposed you could since nightmares were just as good a torture devices -_maybe even better if he was to be subjugated to these endless cycles of horrific dreams._

D'artagnan nervously noted the extreme looks of concern on his 'brothers' faces; their seemingly normal reactions to his outburst putting him even more on edge.

_This could all be an elaborate game to get him to talk__…__why were they being so silent? The demons must be waiting on him to reveal his sworn secrets so they could damn him further! _

D'artagnans' paranoia fuelled his fear driven mind as he glared back at the shadowed forms.

_Well he wouldn__'__t tell them! _

_It was cruel enough that the demons had chosen the faces of his brothers to haunt him like this -but he supposed that__'__s what being in hell was all about; stranded, isolated, able to see loved ones but never interact__…__did this mean he would see his father next!?_

D'artagnan was deeply disturbed by the thought of his dead father coming in for a visit and his body filled with adrenaline; taking on a fight or flight mode.

Noticing that his wrists had unwisely been left without shackles, D'artagnan quickly scrambled his thoughts together and decided his best plan would be to leave this place before his father arrived. He knew already that he wouldn't be able to stand _that _level of torture -his fathers' face.

Throwing back the blankets, D'artagnan leant forwards to begin his escape and was met with agony; a burning pain shooting up through his midsection when he so much as moved an inch.

Falling limply back towards the sheets with his vision spinning, D'artagnan cried out in pain and lay still; panting heavily through the excruciating, stabbing feelings that left him light headed.

_So this was how the demons had confined him! They had maimed him so he was at their mercy!  
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D'artagnan laughed weakly as he heard grunting and shuffling noises approach his bed. _They must be coming to taunt him in his miserable state. How considerate of them not to leave him alone in this moment of woe._

Aramis was feeling both annoyed and guilty at D'artagnans' lack of response to his call to lay still; his wobbly steps over to the panting boy revealing a sorry sight that left his mind in the trenches.

_He had done this._

Seemingly unburdened by such a guilty mind as Aramis, Porthos took the time to lean forward and inspect the boys' vitals; placing a finger to his racing pulse before putting his other hand against his sweat soaked brow.

_Not a fever just a nightmare._

Porthos still hated seeing his younger brother like this. _He was supposed to be full of life in his youth, so happy and optimistic not this tortured, old soul lying before him!_

Sharing a concerned look with Aramis, Porthos could see his brother felt the same way about their friend and so they sat either side of him on the available beds that stood along the walls -as per the sleeping quarters' arrangement; hoping their presence would be enough of a comfort.

It was when D'artagnan began to laugh brokenly that Porthos' frayed nerves snapped and provoked him to break his silence and clasp his brothers' sweat soaked shoulder.

"D'artagnan, please, tell us what's botherin' you?" he inquired through the insane cackles, brow knitting in dread.

D'artagnan simply ignored the question and turned his head to ask him one of his own; an unsettling smile on his face as he peered at them lazily with defiance in his eyes.

"How about, _you _tell me why you brought me here first? Hmm?" he challenged, earning a look of confusion from Porthos. _It was unexpected -but reasonable__…__and he didn__'__t have the answers._

Porthos looked to Aramis for aid but the man only shrugged fretfully. _He hadn__'__t witnessed the end of their journey either. He was at as much a loss as the two of them._

"I'm sorry, brother, I don't know" Porthos whispered guiltily, patting D'artagnan on the arm once more.

"Where are the enemies?" D'artagnan whispered next; an unknown test for the demons to see if they lied and did not reveal themselves as the real enemies.

"Dead" the Aramis clone replied without hesitation, a dark, troubled expression taking over his features and making his eyes distant.

D'artagnan sighed inwardly and retreated into the safety of his own mind. _They were lying to him -as he knew they would. _

Not liking the distance looks his brothers' were fostering in their gazes, Porthos purposely stomped his foot loudly on the floor and snapped them back to reality.

_He wouldn__'__t let them leave his side again; even if it had really been him who had left them, he didn__'__t want to miss another moment in their company._

_What had they been through without him? _Porthos' wondered; heart braking as his dark imagination tried to match valid explanations to their erratic behaviour.

_He should__'__ve been there to prevent this. _

"Listen, whatever you're goin' through-" Porthos soothed, addressing both brothers, "-I need you to know that its over and done with now. Whatever happened, it's _over_" he promised solidly.

Aramis looked away at this but D'artagnans' face turned to one of confusion.

_Why was the demon trying to help him?_

"It's never _over_" the youngest croaked out, Aramis' half hidden face seeming to nod and agree with the sad statement.

Porthos shook his head determinedly, "Yes. It is" he ground out, glaring at them both like a force to be reckoned with.

_He wasn__'__t very good at this emotional support thing -but he was good at convincing people._

"No. Because you're not here -and this isn't real! I _know _what you're doing and I refuse to let you win, so why don't you just give up?" D'artagnan challenged icily; the random statement drawing both brothers' from their simpler thoughts to stare at him completely nonplussed.

"What the _hell _are you talking about?!… Aramis, did he hit his head?" Porthos asked seriously, feeling through D'artagnans' hair with concern as the boy laughed again at the irony of that statement.

Before Aramis could offer his puzzled reply, D'artagnan interrupted them once more with his nonsensical ramblings.

"That's exactly it! _Hell_! You and I _both _know I cant possibly still be dreaming if I just woke up…therefore, I have awoken in hell… _You _are _not _my brothers. My brothers would be in heaven, watching over me -not down here in the pits of Hades… with me" D'artagnan declared with an air of sadness but backed with pride; his fierce gaze and sure reasoning putting a deep crack in both of the brothers' tough walls.

"D'artagnan, no! This _isn__'__t _hell -and you're _not _dreaming. We are back at the garrison" Aramis assured, hesitantly placing a soft hand on the boys' elbow.

It had been the first measure of physical contact since the burning home and the dead woman…he hadn't wanted to get close to someone again so soon. _He was a danger_.

_But D__'__artagnan was losing his mind. He needed him_. And as much as it tore as his conscience, Aramis relented to being there for his brother, as he knew D'artagnan and Porthos would be if their roles were to switch.

D'artagnan looked puzzled once more as he looked over to Aramis.

_Why were they so intent on denying the truth if he__'__d already figured it out?__…__Why did they seem so sincere?__…_

D'artagnan began to doubt himself for a moment as he met their steady gazes; taking in every aspect of their appearance, noting their haggard forms, bandaged torsos and pleading looks. _Something was amiss._

"But I was captured by the enemy…they shot me…held me down…and then came for my brothers…" D'artagnan confessed, confusion clear in his young face.

This piece of information was new to the brothers' but they schooled their features so they could appear strong in the eyes of the youngest.

_No sense in letting him know they had no idea what he was talking about._

They began to shake their heads in denial, "It was an accident" Aramis ventured, intentionally vague.

"The hands were trying to help" Aramis guessed, "-and they did" he comforted, gesturing to D'artagnans' bandages.

Taking in the new 'facts' and trying to see the situation in a new light, D'artagnan took a moment to slow his whirling mind and reassess his reality.

_If this wasn__'__t hell and he wasn__'__t dreaming, was it heaven?_

_No, it couldn__'__t be__…__ his stomach hurt like the devil and he could hardly move… And they were injured too… But you weren__'__t trussed up in heaven, injured there still? That seemed like more of a punishment__…__ Or did wounds of battle carry over as reminders?_

_That was cruel__…__ and hell was cruel__…__ what on earth was he supposed to believe!? Either way, he didn__'__t like it here__…__therefore he should escape! But was it even possible to escape heaven? Or hell for that matter? _

_He didn__'__t know, but he could try!_

**Cut it here! Go read the next half of the chapter, quick, before you forget what's going on! Hahaha, sorry about any inconveniences!**


	29. The Awakening pt 2

**So I cut the chapter, I couldn't let go of the idea that it was too massive to read; so here is the second half of it. Hope it still flows!**

D'artagnan moved restlessly as his realities tumbled into one another, but hands steadied him and prevented the painful movements.

"_Please_, stay still. You will hurt yourself" Aramis pleaded, gentled hands delicately pulling the strands of hair from his eyes.

D'artagnan continued to struggle, both physically and mentally as he debated whether these were his brothers -and should rescue them… or demons still trying to trick him…

But he couldn't move, he was too weak, the pain was too much to ignore as he continuously jarred his wounds.

D'artagnan heard his brothers voices calling through the mist that was his mind, begging him to '_please, stop__'_and so he stilled slightly as they reasoned with him.

Unable to hold back his questions, D'artagnan pressed them on the validity regarding this reality once more -even though it seemed to frustrate them all the more.

"We are _not _in hell!" Aramis barked fiercely, shaking D'artagnan as roughly as he dared, desperate for him to understand.

"How would you know!?" D'artagnan accused, ripping the hands from him.

"I know because if I were there, you would not be with me!" Aramis retorted harshly, his voice braking with the dark confession that inadvertently told of his opinions regarding his lack self worth. It abruptly silenced them all.

Intense gazes of deep pity and anguish were traded back and forth in momentary glances as the three brothers sat by each others' side, not quite knowing where to proceed from here if their intentions of 'comfort' were getting them nowhere.

In the meantime, D'artagnans' spiralling mind decidedly drifted off somewhere once more as he considered his predicament.

_Aramis__'__ off the cuff statement had truth to it. Lying here, with the ones you loved would be a mercy, not a punishment _D'artagnan reasoned.

_Loved ones provided comfort__…__and although this situation was not altogether comforting, he must admit he felt instinctively safe around them._

And so D'artagnan decided to hold his tongue, still unsure about reality, but hoping they could offer him some answers that would settle his 'paranoia'

_After all, they hadn__'__t hurt him so far -and it wasn__'__t like he could move right now anyway._

Having practically begged Porthos to recount his 'side of the story,' D'artagnan waited patiently for him to finish filling them both in on what they already knew; checking his 'memories' against the facts of his own -finding himself pleasantly surprised that the man was correct.

D'artagnan felt himself relax another inch. _Maybe they were telling the truth__…__maybe__…_

Porthos flung an apology at the two for his nuisance at the end but Aramis had stopped him immediately to tell him it was not his fault. Porthos had looked away in shame, regardless.

Aramis had quickly reached his good arm over to his brother to soothe him; straining to place it over the bed to Porthos' shoulder while he placed his other back to D'artagnans' arm.

"This is _my _fault, if anyone was to take the blame. _I _failed to protect you both…even the woman-" Aramis began but his voice broke and he suddenly stopped talking.

_He thought he could be strong enough__…__but he__'__d been wrong. He couldn__'__t do this._

"Aramis" Porthos called out, but his friend wouldn't listen to reason; instead he stood slowly and stumbled back over to his bed, wanting the isolation and undisturbed peace more than anything right now.

No longer concerned over the mentality of his youngest brother now that he knew he was unlikely to hurt them -or himself, Porthos followed Aramis back over to the bed. He wouldn't let those thoughts stew.

But as he reached his friend, a new whisper surged forth.

"Aramis?" the unsteady voice came; and this time it was D'artagnan who was looking back at him in concern.

_If this wasn__'__t hell then he couldn__'__t allow his _real _brother to torment himself before his very eyes. Not when he had something to say about it!_

"There was nothing more you could have done" D'artagnan struggled out; still unsure about his place in all of this but hating the feeling of Aramis recalling that tragic night -the one he had to accept he had been powerless to stop.

Porthos hung back.

He didn't know what they were talking about any more but he certainly didn't want to interrupt the progress.

_If Aramis__'__ woes dragged D__'__artagnan back to his senses, then so be it_.

_It was a hard bargain, but as long as they jumped on their friends__'__ confessions as soon as he uttered them, they could squash the deluded thoughts yet -and save his mind._

"Yes there was! I could have acted! But instead, I waited!… I cost you all dearly -because _I _froze!" Aramis cried, eyes full of tears as he shouted back over to D'artagnan -T_he only brother to have witnessed his treachery._

"But I'm still here!" Porthos chimed in, as if to comfort his spiralling friend.

His plans backfired.

"Yes -but she's not!" Aramis almost screamed, eyes streaming, "-and you almost _died_!"

Porthos looked away then, not sure what to say or how to comfort his friend.

It seemed like they all saw their own wrong doing in this, and guilt was always a hard emotion to squash. You needed facts and evidence to be convincing. Something Porthos didn't have because he had been sleeping away throughout their entire journey.

D'artagnan tilted his head in concern, pitying the man that could be his brother and trying his best to lean forwards as he sat up to face them.

"Aramis, stop it. It was not your fault" D'artagnan commanded softly, trying to sound confident.

Aramis shook his head in disagreement, "I can _never _forgive myself and I can _never _forget. I don't want to!… I want to better myself from this" he admitted quietly, fiddling with the sheets as he cast his eyes down to his lap in shame.

"You _are _better from this! Aramis, please, stop your senseless fretting -we are all safe now" Porthos tried, putting a hand to his brothers' shoulder but Aramis shrugged it off.

"You forget about Athos" he reminded them, voice cold and broken.

At this they all became silent; their minds wrenched back to the thought of their missing brother. _He was still out there somewhere, anything could have happened to him. _

D'artagnan was beginning to get frustrated.

He was trying to comfort them and yet he himself was still stricken with turmoil. He decided to take a leap of faith with his brothers -if that was truly who they were, and he was not dead- and voice one of his many worries instead.

"What if all of this is a trap?" he suggested suddenly, peering about suspiciously as the apparently 'random' statement provoked bewildered expressions from his brothers.

"Well, how else did we get here?" D'artagnan challenged.

_He wanted answers -and if there was even the slightest chance that this should be his real home, then he still had no explanation as to how he had gotten here. All he knew was enemies had attacked them._

"What if the enemy is waiting outside?" D'artagnan added, glancing over to the darkening windows but unable to peer out from his forward facing position in bed.

Porthos shook his head disbelievingly and shuffled back over to D'artagnan, sitting down on his bed and sighing as he mulled over the best way to approach the new argument.

"I doubt they'd of aided us if they were the enemy" Porthos reasoned, stroking D'artagnans' head lightly and pressing it back into the pillows so the boy could lie down to rest.

D'artagnan found himself instinctively relaxing at the touch; Porthos' firm grip to keep him against his sheets, grounding him with the familiarity of it all.

_Should he be able to feel all of this? What did that mean?_

Slowly, D'artagnan decided to he should accept that these four walls were indeed his home and his brothers concerned faces were actually _real_.

_So far, they had done him no harm, answered all of his questions, comforted him, been there for him. Had he truly made it home? _

_Yes, he had._

D'artagnan didn't know how he'd been spared -but his brothers were safe and that was all that mattered.

_But then how had he got here?_

…_Where had the shadowed enemies of the past night gone? _D'artagnan felt a sinking feeling low in his gut.

Not sure how to convince him of his theories, D'artagnan tried again, "Well, I don't know…uh, maybe they don't want us to die -so they can torture us?" he progressed feebly.

Aramis shuffled back over; a mask back to his face as he sought to comfort his confused brother.

"I doubt it, D'artagnan. The regiment _must _have found us…who was it you said you saw last?" he coaxed, hoping to ignite the boys' memories with sights and sounds of a rescuing musketeer party.

D'artagnan humoured his brother…_even if there were enemies lurking about at this very moment._

"I'm not sure…I thought they were enemies…I can't be sure, there were too many shadows" D'artagnan mumbled out softly; reaching out to their arms as he began to accept the true presence of his brothers and require their contact.

Silence fell as each brother considered the validity of the last fact.

_D__'__artagnan _had _been the last one to witness anything__…__he would know if there had been enemies lurking about__…__and if he was indeed right and this threat was real, then they should probably do something other than sit around and wait _Porthos concluded; mind sparking with new worries for his brothers safety.

Each musketeer briefly became trapped in their own suspicious thoughts; their minds running through possible scenarios to put some logic towards D'artagnans' theory. They trusted him and after all he had done for them, the least they could do was listen.

"Perhaps an escape would be best" Aramis murmured, that same old line chilling him to the bone as he thought back to that first harrowing night.

Swatting at the distracting thoughts, Aramis looked back up to survey his brothers reactions; noting they seemed to agree with the idea.

Just as Porthos got to his feet, to help D'artagnan out of bed, Treville suddenly burst in through the doors; his undeniably firm presence shaking the brothers back to their senses.

No one _could detain their captain here with them. No enemy was strong or smart enough to defeat such a skilled warrior as Treville__…__ And if he was still roaming free, then the enemy could be nowhere near this place__…_

They sighed in relief at his entrance -the behaviour mirrored in Trevilles' expression as he saw his men huddled together as usual.

Seeing their obvious need for answers, Treville decided to fill in his men before he could ask his own questions.

_The fewer holes they had in their own stories, the more accurate their recount of past events would be._

Going by Frères' story, Treville quickly sped through the tale that was their broken memories of only a few hours ago; the men listening intently as they were sucked into their pasts -D'artagnan finding the remaining evidence he needed to believe this reality- thanks to the details and endless answers to their questions.

_If this had been hell, they would not have an answered him; they would have let them suffer in silence _D'artagnan reasoned with finality; his mind growing ever stronger with each passing moment and allowing him to tune into the debriefing.

It was as Treville talked, that Aramis noted there was a vaguely familiar looking musketeer waiting behind Treville by the door; a man whom he had met only once.

Aramis believed his name was Frère… _had he something to do with this? And why did he have his head hung in shame?_

D'artagnan followed Aramis' frequent glances and also took note of the man in the corner; eyes widening as some part of his brain told him to run.

_But according to Treville, this musketeer had carried them the rest of the way home, had saved them from isolation of the fields. _

D'artagnan was just starting to wonder why Treville was beckoning the man forth when the man himself quickly introduced his name as Frère, swept over to his side and knelt before him.

"I do not know if you remember me, but…it was _I _who lead the team of musketeers to rescue you" Frère informed him; a confused expression settling over D'artagnans' face as the musketeer repeated the same information told only moments ago.

"It was also I who…_shot _you" Frère confessed, eyes unable to meet D'artagnans' own as his mind flew away with the wind and the strong feelings of guilt ran rampant in his body.

"-I do not expect your forgiveness and I am _deeply _sorry that I ever caused you such harm…but I do hope you find it in your heart to allow me to work by your side still, as a fellow musketeer" the young man finished quietly, eyes now boring holes into the floor boards.

D'artagnan frowned at the kneeling man before him and then looked over to Treville and his brothers.

They seemed to show a range of emotions -from accepting, to understanding.

_No brother who had committed such an act _intentionally _would have come back to apologize -on his knees. The shooting had been an accident. It all made sense now._

_He had attacked the shadows -and it had been his brothers!_

D'artagnan felt his back prickle and chest shudder with renewed guilt over his failings.

_Frère had been defending his brothers and now he was kneeling before him, begging his acceptance to remain a friend. He wasn__'__t even asking for forgiveness._

Taking a careful breath out, D'artagnan placed a hand on Frères' shoulder; noting how much it quivered under the light touch.

"It is _I _who am sorry, brother. _I _assumed you were the enemy and rushed to attack; blinded by my hatred" D'artagnan added; memories charging his mind as he thought back to the horrific night.

_Athos had always told him to think before he acted, not to let his heart overrule his mind__…__he hadn__'__t listened and he had suffered the consequences. His brothers__'__ had _all _suffered the consequences._

"I did not know it then -and it took me a while to realize it-" D'artagnan spoke kindly as he eyed his brothers and gave them a knowing look and a nod of thanks for bringing him back to reality, "-but I see now that you were only doing your duty. You were _saving _us from ourselves -and then you brought us back home!"

Frère dared to peek up in astonishment at the boy before him; his soothing words of wisdom, caressing his troubled mind as only he a wise man or an old soul could.

This boy showed greatness beyond what lay on the outside and Frère was only witnessing an inkling of it in this moment.

"-And for that, I am forever in your debt" D'artagnan finished, clapping him on the shoulder and smiling lightly; his insides warming as he spotted the approving nods and proud gazes of his brothers and Treville.

_He had done the right thing._

D'artagnan smiled back warmly; tired mind and body finally relaxing as one as he accepted he was indeed home, _with his family. _

Frère placed a shaking hand on his knee, tears shining in his eyes as he reeled from the easy forgiveness stowed upon him generously by his younger brother.

_He had never thought this day would come, that he would be able to move past from that haunting moment__…__and yet at every turn, his family of brothers had surprised him with words of comfort and reason._

All had been forgiven, and Frère felt as light as the clouds when he felt the heavy weight lift from his shoulders.

_He would never forget this day. _

Frère told them all such as he made to leave them in peace.

"Thank you" he added; the utmost sincerity in his voice that was little louder than a broken whisper, emotion overwhelming him once more.

The four men nodded and smiled, feeling light hearted as Frère exited the quarters; proud of his bravery and many accomplishments over these past few hours.

He had grown from a young man into a fully fledged musketeer through this experience -and they were more than glad to have him with them.

Turning back to each other, Treville finished with his debriefing and asked his men to share their sides of the story.

But none of them could provide enough information to seal the worrisome gaps over Athos' disappearance.

At this, the room filled with the mutual feeling of dread and hopelessness; filling their mouths with tired sighs and sparking a restlessness that could not and would not die out until their brother returned safely.

After ten minutes of silence, Treville thanked them for their assistance and left the brothers to rest; his troubled mind leading his feet to do the thinking for him as he trudged out into the courtyard with a heavy heart.

_He was no closer to finding out about Athos than he had been hours ago._

A deep feeling guilt and regret now hanging in the silence of the room, Porthos suddenly flew to his feet and paced over to his bed; grabbing his doublet, hat and weapons belt that lay draped over the footboard and began to sling them on.

"What are you doing?" D'artagnan whispered; not quite sure if Treville was far enough away that they could talk loudly yet.

He already knew he would be furious with Porthos for dressing in his outdoors in an injured state.

"Well I can't leave Athos _alone _out there! Only way we're gonna get our answers is if someone meets 'im 'alfway" Porthos stated bluntly as he shucked on his jacket with a wince; he was not letting a little pain stop him now.

_He__'__d had all the rest he was going to need. Slept enough for a lifetime as far as he was concerned. His wounds were already on the mend unlike his brothers; he didn__'__t have time to waste._

The two slightly stunned men processed Porthos' words for a moment before taking after his example hastily.

_Athos would not suffer alone any longer._

Wobbling over to his own bed as his blood raced to his head, Aramis took to the boots waiting at the foot of his bed; setting himself against the mattress to steady himself before shoving a foot in, one after the other.

"Whatcha think you're doin?" Porthos growled, eyeing Aramis' unsteady but determined movements as he made to dress himself and follow Porthos' lead.

"What does it look like I'm doing?" Aramis grumbled out rhetorically, hissing as he gingerly shoved his arm into the sleeve of his long, grey justacorps coat and fitted his injured shoulder against the inside of the fabric before flinging his good arm into the opposite sleeve.

"It better not look like what I think it looks like" Porthos retorted angrily, already knowing the answer and dropping his boot as he shuffled over to his pale brother.

_No way was he letting him ride out of here on only a few hours sleep -after recently being shot._

Aramis continued to do up his buttons in defiance and clap his hat onto his head, "What it looks like, is a man getting dressed. Now if you don't mind, turn around" Aramis teased lightly; happy for their usual banter -even if it was leading Porthos to blow his top.

Lip curling in frustration, Porthos moved over as if to wrestle the hat back from Aramis head; knowing full well he would not want to leave without it if it were an option.

However, a loud thump from their left caught Porthos' attention and revealed D'artagnan sat on the floor, panting slightly as he did his best to reach for his boots.

Alarmed, both brothers' rushed over to help the youngest back onto his bed, despite his yelps of protest.

"You can't go without me!" D'artagnan argued, his hoarse voice making it sound more like a desperate plea as they held him to the bed and Porthos snatched his boot from his fingers.

Aramis lay a comforting hand on D'artagnans' chest instead, "I'm sorry, brother, but we cannot allow you to go" he informed the struggling form; feeling both sorry and guilty at once as the boy began to get upset.

"Like hell I can't!" he persisted, prying Porthos' fingers back painfully from his other shoulder and managing to sit up painfully before he was shoved back down by Aramis.

"D'artagnan! Your wounds are too serious and fresh!" Aramis scolded, the medic within kicking in as he eyed his brothers' serious mountain of bandages wrapped around his midsection.

"So are yours, Aramis!" D'artagnan accused, seething now that he could not gain an inch of ground against them.

"Yes, well I can stand up at least" Aramis argued, stumbling slightly as the room suddenly titled to the left.

Porthos acknowledged his unhealthy brother and rolled his eyes; even as his insides twinged secretly with concern.

"That's debatable" Porthos jested, letting go of D'artagnan now that he was too tired to struggle.

Aramis glared back over at Porthos' back as his brother turned back to his boots, "Yes, thank you for the helpful sentiment, brother" he replied sarcastically, leaning against the wall slightly as the room titled back onto its axis.

He could hardly handle being on a boat, if the floor continued to have this ill effect on his mind, Aramis wasn't so sure he could ride a horse. But he could always find that out later when he was guaranteed a place on this trip.

_No use in concerning Porthos of his health status any more than he already was._

D'artagnan began to grumble once more and started to shift now that his movements were unhindered.

"Oh no you don't" Aramis chuckled, pressing their stubborn brother back to the bed.

D'artagnan sighed with great frustration splayed across his face, "But, Athos" he whined, his put out demeanour and eyes full of worry speaking for themselves.

"We shall return with him, safely" Aramis promised him, patting him on the shoulder as he shuffled lazily towards the door, hand tracing against the wall for balance as he went.

"But you cant leave me here… alone" D'artagnan confessed quietly, encouraging Porthos to give a look of pity over to his young friend who now appeared to be much smaller as the sheets surrounding him swallowed up by his bandaged body.

_He knew what it was like to be left behind. The terror it struck, the pain it caused._

Aramis looked on sympathetically as he leaned against the far wall patiently, admiring Porthos' brotherly gestures as he paced over to D'artagnan to rub his head and offer what would have been some words of wisdom.

Suddenly loud cheers erupted up from the courtyard outside, breaking the brothers' from their heartfelt moment.

_More riders had returned._

Stumbling back over to the window, Aramis peered out eagerly, keen eyes darting about in a mad search of the dimly lit garrison; Porthos copying the motion naturally.

D'artagnan desperately tried to prop himself up in his blankets but found himself too weak to do so. Curiosity gnawing at his brain, the youngest brother internally cursed about his restrictive situation before settling to demand answers from his brothers.

Seeming to find what they were looking for, D'artagnan witnessed as Porthos and Aramis beamed out of the window and let out a hearty laugh.

"What!?" D'artagnan growled in annoyance, "Tell me!" he ordered, impatiently. 

"Athos is back!" Aramis informed him gleefully, unable to pry his eyes from the form of his brother as he rode past slowly with the rest of the returning men; a familiar looking woman locked in his embrace atop the horse.

Ecstatic and overwhelmed with joy, D'artagnan found his body thriving with new energy and made to get up once more.

"I wouldn't bother" Porthos advised, voice high strung with happiness, tearing his gaze from the window to share his brilliant grin with the others.

"-Looks like Athos is on his way in here!" he informed gleefully; rushing to the door, ready to greet his brother with open arms.

D'artagnan felt butterflies in his stomach as he set himself back into his bed; every fibre of his being tingling with excitement at seeing his brother home safely once more.

Aramis moved over to follow Porthos to the door; his face cracking to betray a mixture of emotions -being joy and grief at the prospect of hugging his brother after so long.

_The family was to be completed once more, and once they were reunited, nothing would ever be able to break them apart._

Porthos swung the door open widely and opened his arms.

"Come in here, you" he said lovingly, tugging the exhausted brother inside and crushing him into a bear hug before he could react.

Aramis piled on from the side and D'artagnan -whom had stealthy crawled to his feet and wobbled over- got behind the three and completed the circle; fiercely embracing the huddle of brothers with shaky arms, tears of joy shimmering in his eyes.

Before long, Athos was squirming around within the forest of arms; unable to hug them back, move forwards, sit or _breathe_. He was beginning to lose his patience.

_But they would not move. _

Athos sighed and gave in; stilling where he stood as he allowed the warmth to envelope his body from all angles and taking in the moment for what it was. A hug fest.

He smirked lightly at the spectacle as his chest filled with glowing sparks of love that radiated out from his being and filled the atmosphere of the once cold room.

_He had missed them dearly, too._

Athos raised his tired arms and did his best to hug back, nodding for Miriam to enter the doorway and join the huddle; grinning at her bright smile as she drifted over slowly, a look of adoration gracing her angelic features as she draped her arms around the huddle and pulled herself in.

_Together again, at last._

**Sappy reunion I know, I have a whole chapter reserved for that next though, this was just the beginning!**

**Hope you guys liked this chapter! Leave a review and let me know! Until next time!**


	30. You & I Collide pt1

**WOW! I know I****'****m a little late on mentioning we passed 100 views thanks to you guys, so I****'****m congratulating our progress now!**

**I can****'****t **_**believe **_**the tremendously lovely support I****'****ve been getting from this story -I****'****ve truly never experienced anything like it, so thank you guys for making my life! Lol- that****'****s not a sad thing**

**We are also surpassing 200 pages -so we are officially making novel now! ;D jk This chapter is full of banter and then gradual angst. It was another 18 pager so I chopped it in half, again. Super guilty about that, I never intend them to carry on that long!… Try listening to Collide by Howie Day for this chapter, it was my inspiration -sort of ;D**

**I do hope you like it anyways -you guys deserve it after all!**

"Can't …breathe!" Athos gasped out from the tangle of family limbs; struggling in vain to free himself after a further ten minutes of hugging it out passionately.

He'd missed them dearly, that much was true; missed their smiling faces, their mischievous behaviour, the aura of safety and support they provided him.

But when your side ached mercilessly from a barely healing wound and there was no longer any blood coursing through your stiff legs -thanks to the ramrod posture, Athos felt he was more than a little justified to earn a sit down.

And considering Athos would rather _not _reveal his true intentions for needing a seat to spare them the worry- he craftily went for the excuse of oxygen, or lack there of.

The huddle broke up immediately as expected; a few worried glances heading his way but stopping short at seeing his smirk.

"Athos, you sly old dog" Aramis scolded, draping an arm back over his older brothers' shoulders and escorting him to take a seat on a bed.

_There was no need to go elsewhere, they could just as easily enjoy a reunion in the sick quarters as they could a tavern _Aramis acknowledged. _Besides, this way they wouldn__'__t have to walk as far._

"I'll have you know I am a man in his prime" Athos opposed -somewhat seriously; catching the knowing grin of Miriam as he looked back and pulled her along by the hand.

Athos added a wink to his remark and took secret delights in seeing her blush, his smile fading slightly as he noticed Porthos raising an eyebrow in question.

He really couldn't be bothered with proper formalities at this point; she'd seen him at both his highest and lowest moments, knew almost all of his darkest secrets and had met his family.

Now was a time for celebration -and so Athos purposely didn't bother to hide their intimate interactions from the others.

Taking a seat on the bed, Athos curled a possessive arm around her slim waist as she sat beside him with an appreciative smile, then faced his brothers.

_They wouldn__'__t mind._

In fact, Athos thought he even saw Aramis give him a wink of good luck -but before he could check twice the man had turned his back and began to wobble over to the door.

_They would need wine if this was to be a proper celebration _Aramis noted.

"Oi! Where you goin? Athos _just _got here!" Porthos complained, astounded that Aramis would dare to leave so soon.

"But -the wine!" Aramis protested, making Athos grin all the more, _so considerate._

"Oh no you ain't" Porthos instructed, rising slowly to his feet and moving over to Aramis, then manhandling him back to the bed.

Even in his half recovered state, Porthos had a decent amount of power left to fuel his actions; much to the dismay of his brother.

"Sit" he ordered, his no nonsense tone controlling the other man.

Aramis sat grudgingly and provided the room with a fake, complacent smile -as he tried to be remain 'pleasant' in the company of Miriam; whom it seemed was enjoying the show immensely.

It was then that D'artagnan shoved Aramis aside tenderly to steal the free spot beside Athos; more than happy to be by his mentor again.

Athos smiled fondly over to his youngest brother and leant into his arm; watching with amusement as Aramis regained his composure and took a seat across from them by Porthos on the opposite bed; one man smiling, the other, not so much.

"So…" Miriam initiated; the reunion bringing a semi-awkward gap of silence between the brothers.

_Perhaps it was her presence that was driving them to act like this?_

"So…" Porthos repeated, frowning slightly as he inspected Miriam; feeling like he had seen her before…_somewhere_.

"Forgive me! I forgot to introduce you properly" Athos blurted out as it dawned on him that neither Porthos, D'artagnan or Miriam had been _fully _acquainted.

Athos mentally slapped his forehead just as Aramis grinned anew; taking small pleasures in seeing his friend stumble around the social scene for once.

"Miriam, as I'm sure you remember, this is my dear brother, Porthos."

"Now, despite his rather violent mood swings -and unfortunate face-" Athos jested smoothly; earning an open mouthed look of shock from Porthos "-I assure you he is the _fiercest_, most _loyal _man you will ever meet" Athos informed her, a loving smile lighting everyone's expressions.

Porthos closed his mouth as his brothers' kind words touched his heart, putting aside the jokes for now as he took Miriam's hand warmly and smiled at her in greeting, bowing his head politely.

"Porthos, this is Miriam. She was the woman who took us in and aided you after the ambush" Athos filled in the gaps "-her generosity and kindness knows no bounds" he added, smiling over at her in adoration as he spoke those last words sincerely.

There was a sparkle to Porthos' eyes when he spoke next, tears shining in them as he held her small fingers more firmly, "Miriam. I cannot thank you enough for what you have done for me -and my brothers" he stated, voice thick with emotion.

Miriam smiled and shook her head, "Nonsense, you could always cook me up some grub! Athos was just telling me on the way back how much he _loves _your 'recipes'" she added seriously; much to the chagrin of her man; taking in the vibes of annoyance that rolled off him in waves with a smile.

Of course he had said exactly the opposite on their ride back to Paris but Miriam wanted to make a good impression on his brothers' -and so she felt that light-hearted humour would be the best way to do it; especially under such touching circumstances as being allowed into their inner circles.

"Did he now?" Porthos replied, good naturedly, raising his eyebrows as a look of foreboding mischief took over his expression.

Porthos already knew Athos was no fanatic over his cooking while on a mission but he was more than happy to indulge Miriam of her witty banter to find excuses in her tales so he could bug his brother later.

Porthos was growing to love this woman like a sister already.

Athos gave him a cold, flat stare and shook his head ever so slowly in denial; doing his best to intimidate his brother -or in the very least, ward him off- but failing miserably all the same.

Athos would just have to watch what he ate for the next little while…

"Ech hem" D'artagnan coughed lightly, nudging Athos on the shoulder.

He had gotten so caught up in his brothers' antics that he had almost forgotten his younger brother. _But then again, no one could ever forget D__'__artagnan._

"Ah, yes, and this is my younger brother, D'artagnan" Athos entreated Miriam; leaning back to allow her to see past his side and offer him her hand in greeting.

D'artagnan took it up quickly and placed a soft kiss on her hand; provoking a deep blush and a noticeably unhappy gaze from Athos. _Ever the charmer_.

"Do not be deceived!" Athos began hastily.

"-He may _look _innocent …with those abnormally large eyes and that mop of unkempt hair his… but underneath, he is as cunning as a snake and would not hesitate to drag you into his world of mischief if he gets the chance" Athos finished knowingly.

As he finished, Athos peered back over to D'artagnans' smiling face; his cold stare warning the boy that involving Miriam in such 'actions' would land him in _serious _trouble.

D'artagnan raised his arms slightly in defence but turned to address Miriam instead, "I have no clue what he is talking about, Madam. But if you ever need someone _better _to confide in, do give me a call" he finished with a cheeky grin.

Athos simply rolled his eyes while Porthos and Aramis chuckled.

Miriam nodded, "I shall" she promised with a wink; relishing in Athos' reaction of whipping his head back over to eyeball her with wide eyes that spoke of both shock and betrayal.

She merely punched him good naturedly. _He__'__d just have to suck it up, she was too tired for this._

"Din't know you was on the market, Athos" Porthos teased gruffly, sharing a friendly smile with his brothers as they worked on pushing the eldest over the mental edge.

Miriam smiled in the background as she watched the easy exchange. She could tell they held a uniquely close bond by the way they sat closely and playfully teased each other. Miriam was happy to have returned Athos to his family.

_Even if it meant she couldn__'__t stay…. _Miriam cast her eyes down at this as she pondered the issue.

…_She would deal with that later. I can't ruin this moment _she decided wisely.

"I wasn't _on _the market" Athos argued grumpily, eyeing them each with a glare as his face flushed with embarrassment.

"No, he was merely in the 'cabbage patch'" Miriam teased, causing all but Athos to grin at the inside joke.

"I thought you said you didn't grow cabbages…" Athos muttered, eyeing Miriam curiously now.

"I don't" she confirmed, with a gleeful smile.

Athos sighed in exasperated as Aramis clapped him on the shoulder.

"Well whatever the circumstance, it's good enough for me!" Aramis noted, nodding along with his brothers in approval of their leaders new match.

"We're proud of you" he added more seriously; eyes shining at his brothers' accomplishments -and in happiness over knowing the man would not be alone now that he had Miriam by his side.

Athos didn't take to women lightly -and Aramis had already witnessed her caring gentle ways back at the farm. _Athos would do well by her, and she by him._

Athos shook his head, tiring from their ceaseless attack on his dignity. _He was home alright._

_He would need wine. Lots and lots of wine._

Athos groaned as he took to his feet once more, prying his arm from Miriam and D'artagnans' grasp as he shuffled over to the door.

"Where are _you _going?" Porthos questioned again. W_hy did everyone have to leave?!_

"Wine" Athos grumbled, only needing one word to get his message across as he continued to the door, a hand to his sore side.

"I've got some!" Miriam piped up, surprising them all as she lifted up her boot and thus her long dress to reveal a large bottle of wine that had been sitting on the floor underneath; hidden this whole time.

D'artagnans' eyes bugged out at the magic trick as Miriam slowly bent to pick it up, "But- but how?!" he gasped, eyeing the lines of her dress for any suspicious lumps or hidden pockets.

Athos stopped in his tracks to turn and look at her, confusion creeping into his expression as his eyes drifted to hers, then to the bottle and back to hers once again; trying to piece it all together before he spoke.

Miriam smiled and nodded him back over. Athos obliged her whims, reluctantly.

"A musketeer passed it off to me before I came in -said I would need it if I was sticking around with you lot" she teased, smirking up at them all fondly.

Aramis was the only one to return her smile as the others frowned at the romantic gesture. He knew all about courting women and wine was hardly going to get Miriam into bed -if that had indeed been the point, which he was sure it had not.

Miriam passed the bottle over to Aramis as he had and began to yank at the cork.

But his weakened shoulder wouldn't allow hi, to pull or tug and so Aramis almost immediately lost his grip; the momentum caused by his straining efforts, carrying the bottle through the air towards Athos' oncoming face.

Batting it away instinctively as Athos reeled back, the bottle redirected itself midair and sailed over to D'artagnan instead, landing right in his lap. The young man smiled as he curled his hands around the bottle, looking ever so proud -as if he had meant to catch the flying missile.

"What? Can't hold your liquor, Athos?" he teased, unable to help himself.

Athos took a heavy seat on the bed back by Miriams side, propping his feet up by Porthos' side and leaning back onto his elbows, facing the ceiling in resignation.

"Just pour the wine, D'artagnan, before I pour it on your head instead" Athos declared.

"Pffft, you wouldn' waste that stuff on no one" Porthos butted in with a cheeky grin, conjuring an un-amused look from his brother.

Athos' frown slowly softened on his face a little as he looked over to Miriam, "Not 'any one'" he corrected, catching her green eyes with his own captivating blues.

_He could easily give up wine for her, give up everything. It was a good job he probably wouldn__'__t have to give up wine though… she was as much of an alcoholic as he was -what with her ability to hide it on her person -with apparent practise- at all times._

Athos smirked at Miriam and she returned the longing gaze; ignorant towards the brothers' smiling faces.

"Uhm, we don't have anything to pour it in" D'artagnan alerted them, glancing around the room with a lost expression on his face.

Porthos took to his feet immediately, dry throat encouraging him to pursue this new quest with haste while his brothers' just traded dumb stares.

"How about Athos' boots?" Aramis suggested to the man himself, grinning evilly at his brother.

_He had missed this teasing; it made him forget his own woes._

"How about Aramis' hat?" Athos shot back with a frosty stare; reaching for his brothers discarded hat that lay on his own bed by the post.

"You wouldn't dare" Aramis whispered, body stiff and demeanour becoming completely serious as he bit his lip fretfully and continued to watch as Athos waved his favourite hat before his nose.

"Wouldn't I?" Athos dared, a smirk tugging up the corners of his mouth.

"Knock it off you two" Miriam scolded in a motherly tone; snatching the hat from Athos' hands and returning it to Aramis who sighed in relief.

Miriam winced as she leaned back and Athos skirted his arm back around her, sobering at her pained expression and reminding himself to look after her more diligently.

Aramis and D'artagnan easily felt the drop in mood and looked to the pair in concern; eyes drawn to Miriams' hands that now absently tenderly rubbed at her dress.

"What happened?" D'artagnan questioned seriously, leaning over to squeeze Miriams' knee comfortingly.

_This woman had done a lot for his brothers and obviously meant the world to Athos. He didn__'__t want her to come to any harm -or suffer at his expense._

"I- it's a long story" she whispered, eyes becoming sad and far away as she looked down to her hands, now hugging her midsection soothingly.

"We have time" Aramis urged, looking between the two as questions plagued his mind again.

_His brother may have returned home but they had obviously been through just as much hell -if not more- during their absence._

_And they had gotten hurt too _Aramis noted regrettably, spying Athos' arm dangling away from his side _-as if he didn__'__t want to touch or aggravate something underneath._

Aramis gulped guiltily and shared the telling look with D'artagnan.

Although Porthos continued his search for glasses in the room, he made sure to listen in intently as this point; _they would still need the alcohol after this._

Athos let out a sigh, his eyes conveying a somewhat traumatized and haunted look from within; something he had managed to hide all too well up until now.

As Porthos sat back on the bed; arms now juggling metal tins as makeshift cups, Athos began to recount their personal journey -the dramatic ups and downs of the nightmarish tale leaving the room in grim silence as his brothers fumed and fretted at what they had heard.

"That explains the sudden appearance of the night riders then" Aramis added grimly; accepting the fact that Athos' tormentor, Porter, must have sent them over to kill them off - and had murdered Arthur and his wife in the process…_no thanks to him._

Aramis eyes began to glisten suspiciously and he looked away to hide his eyes before Athos could notice.

"What night riders?" Athos inquired, deep concern marring his and Miriams' expressions.

_No one had told them of any night riders__…__ what had happened to his brothers that had resulted in their entrance of the garrisons' sick quarters?_

Athos almost didn't want to know but he pressed for the information all the same.

Regretfully informing their brother of their side of the story, D'artagnan and Aramis brokenly took turns with the gruesome details while Porthos hung back in anguish at having to hear the difficult passage again.

Athos' frown deepened over the course of the story -to such an extent that Miriam was sure his face would remain that way for some time.

As D'artagnan purposely breezed over the point of his injuries, Athos' gut twisted in alarm.

_How could he not question the younger mans stiffened posture before now!? _Athos felt shame and guilt crawl up his back and he frowned all the more.

Of course, Athos had known about Porthos' healing wounds and he had briefly noted Aramis bandages peeking out from the neck of his shirt but Athos also knew that both men were strong -and would share their personal distress in their own time.

_But D__'__artagnan__…__he hadn__'__t known he__'__d suffered such a lethal blow!_

Athos began to wonder if he was losing his touch again and made a mental note train harder after he'd regained his strength.

_He could not allow this weakness to grow, could not endanger his brothers further -especially since Porter was still on the loose, somewhere__…_

"I shall have to talk to Monsieur Frère about his actions" Athos grumbled at the end, eyeing D'artagnan worriedly, motioning over to him so he could better inspect the boys bandages, carefully. But D'artagnan easily shooed him away.

"I'm fine, _really _Athos. You don't need to talk to Frère, we've already discussed it" D'artagnan cut in.

Athos didn't look convinced, however, and so D'artagnan placed a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Frère shouldn't have to worry about this any more than you are. I was out of my mind when it happened and I attacked them first -it wasn't his fault" D'artagnan reasoned.

"Anyway, what's done is done. Don't let your heart over rule your head, remember?" D'artagnan reminded his mentor lightly with a smirk.

Athos shook his head in annoyance as he tried to accept the logic in his brothers' rant; but couldn't hold back the smidge of pride he felt as the boy defended his case.

_His young protégé was teaching _him _his _own _lessons now. _

_It looked like he really _did _need to brush up on his teaching skills_, Athos mused, finding irony in the idea and he rolling his eyes in good humour -noting D'artagnans' smirk as he did so and bent sideways to ruffle his hair fondly.

_What would I ever do without him?_

**AW bonding moment! :') Well, onto part 2!**


	31. You & I Collide pt 2

**Enjoy: part 2!**

"So what d' you suppose he's doin' now?" Porthos butted in, leaning back as he downed another tin of wine and began to pour another.

"Who?" Aramis responded, breaking from his thoughts and causing Porthos to tut in exasperation.

"Athos' seventh cousin" Porthos retorted sarcastically, sighing loudly when he saw only confusion on Aramis' face.

"Porter! You dolt" Porthos answered, knocking Aramis back in frustration as understanding slowly dawned on his face accompanied by a light blush.

"I reckon he's regrouping his forces" Athos commented wisely, hand stroking at his beard absently as he thought the matter over, "-It's what I would do…" he added grimly.

The brothers nodded in agreement and took a collective sip of wine as they thought about what this would mean.

"We should stop him before he gets the chance to attack" D'artagnan suggested hastily, eager to be back in the fight.

Athos shook his head with a frown, "No, that would be stupid."

D'artagnan frowned at this and the brothers looked at Athos expectantly.

"I promise you will all get your revenge, in turn, but for the time being we should work on restoring our health. There is no sense in riding off into battle, again, outnumbered -and injured. We would fail almost indefinitely in our attempts" Athos speculated.

"But innocent civilians lives are at stake! Every moment we waste sitting around in here, doing nothing, more people die!" D'artagnan argued vehemently, rising to stand in protest.

_He couldn__'__t allow this Porter to lead any more pillages across the unsuspecting towns and homes out there…or burn down every last home, destroy every crop and meadow, slaughter the innocent… _

_He couldn__'__t relive those horrors and neither should the people who would undoubtedly become the victims._

Athos looked over to D'artagnan with a stern look and stood fully to face him; arm reaching out to steady the boy as he rocked slightly on the balls of his feet.

"Civilians are _always _at stake, D'artagnan" Athos informed him calmly; the harsh truth setting D'artagnan back a step and causing everyone to frown -no matter how hard they tried to hide their reactions.

_But it needed to be said. Especially if it stopped D__'__artagnan from risking his neck over the matter _Athos reasoned.

"They know as well as we do that Porter and his men are still at large out there. If they have any sense at all, they will temporarily vacate their homes in search of a hidden refuge" he provided logically.

"-we need not waste time and effort escorting them elsewhere…of pursuing Porter for that matter. He will come to us" Athos finished with certainty.

D'artagnan wavered under Athos' valid onslaught of arguments and obediently moved with the guiding arms of his brother to take his seat once more by his side; clutching at the makeshift cup of wine he was offered and knocking it back forcefully.

A ghost of a smile played across Athos' lips at the action.

_First Miriam, now D__'__artagnan. Was everyone determined to follow in his footsteps as an alcoholic_?

Athos slowly brought himself back to the mattress and turned his attention back to Miriam who sat loyally by his side; who was hushed under the circumstances and looking decidedly worried about the prospect of Porter coming here for a 'visit.'

"Don't worry" he comforted, twining his fingers in hers against the fabric of her dress. "Everything will return back to normal in due course" he promised, rubbing a thumb over her ear and brushing her hair back with the motion.

Miriam pouted at the seemingly innocent remark, "It will never be _normal_, Athos-" she protested in a whisper, tears in her eyes as the dark images of her mothers' murder and flaming home suddenly assaulted her mind.

Athos shifted closer to her side in a rare display of intimacy and emotion; the brothers' leaning back and busying themselves with the wine out of respect for their brothers' privacy.

"I have nowhere to go…" Miriam admitted sadly, cupping his face and vacantly swiping at a few strands of hair that hung into his tired eyes; massaging the deep lines of concern out of his brow as she went, even as he continued to watch her brokenly.

"You can stay here" he motioned, face setting into determination, desperate for her not to leave.

Miriam allowed a single tear to leak from her watering eyes and trail down her cheek; but Athos caught it and brushed it away, refusing to let the symbol of sorrow fall and thus allow her misery to grow.

"I can't" she replied, an air of melancholy surrounding her. Athos pulled her tighter to his side and forced her chin back up so he could look into her eyes.

"Yes, you can" he repeated.

_She could stay in his quarters, right? As an esteemed musketeer, he would surely be allowed a tenant__…__wouldn__'__t he?_

Athos felt he had earned that much in the very least_. _

_He had never asked anyone of anything -besides his brothers__'__ forgiveness once in a while…. But he should be allowed to comfort Miriam and allow her to lodge with him until he found her a proper home. It was only fair._

"That's all well and good, Athos but you don't exactly have the authority to bunk with a woman in the headquarters made for kings soldiers'" Aramis pointed out sadly, breaking into their intimate conversation when he could no longer hold back his logical reasoning.

"He's right" Miriam agreed mournfully, scrubbing the back of her hand against a new silent tear.

Aramis' heart broke at the spectacle before him; the immense look of sadness radiating of both souls was as clear as it came.

_They could not live in separation. It would drive Athos mad and Miriam to misery…But there was nothing they could do…_

Porthos sighed, "Maybe we should ask Treville 'bout all this" he suggested, rising to his feet as he placed his empty cup down, mind already made up. "He'll know what to do" he stated firmly, trying to give Athos some hope with his confident gaze.

D'artagnan nodded in his agreement and made to rise, but Athos stopped him.

"No, stay here. I will go with Porthos… You two look after Miriam in the meantime -see that she doesn't move" Athos instructed calmly, holding his emotions in check as he made after Porthos before they could argue; heart in his throat as he nervously fretted over what his captain might say.

The brothers smiled lightly at witnessing the indignant squawk of protest Miriam let out just as Athos closed the door behind him, worries momentarily forgotten as she crossed her arms under the scrutiny of the other two who beamed at her.

As the minutes ticked by, silence slowly descended on the brothers and Miriam; the hum of conversation above their heads as Athos and Porthos talked on her behalf with their captain was more than a little nerve racking.

In fact, it was downright terrifying. Knowing your entire future rested on someone else was something Miriam had always fought against back when her parents had encouraged her to marry off to another man and no doubt leave her submissive for the rest of her life.

_Now it was happening again -but in a very different context. She knew she would always be Athos__'__ equal, regardless of the societal expectations, he would never lord over her or abuse his power. He was a gentleman and kind hearted warrior. If anything he would find himself bowing to her command__…__especially if she had the wine._

Miriam smiled lightly at the thought, but it faded as she heard heavy boot steps outside, the door bursting open seconds later as Athos paced in; face thunderous while Porthos followed behind meekly.

Face falling as she realized the news he would have to tell her, Miriam noted Porthos calling his brothers over to the door; the duo supporting D'artagnan between them as they left the couple to talk in privacy.

They already knew how hard this would be -and it ripped them at the seams to know this new pain in their brother would not recover quite so easily as their injuries.

Porthos lead the way to take a seat in the chilly dark courtyard with his brothers; swinging his thick jacket over D'artagnans' shivering form and placed a comforting hand on his back.

Aramis shared a sad look over to him and then stared to the pale shining moon, wondering how it could look so beautiful and bestow such peace when wars of the heart raged on below.

Caught in his thoughts, Porthos replayed the conversation the pair had just had with Treville back in his office; recounting their captains sorrowful gaze and open arms as he apologized to Athos and told him he could not allow such an arrangement.

The look of conflicting anger and distress on Athos' usually stoic face had pained them both deeply as he took from the room in a fit of rage, his desperate pleas going unanswered.

_Athos deserved this small favour__…__but the king couldn__'__t -or wouldn't- allow it._

Porthos began to feel as if his brother would simply defy his captains orders and take Miriam in anyway…but at the sadness in his gaze, he knew Athos would follow his orders. _When had he not?_

D'artagnan sighed and turned his back to the window, not baring to see the two embracing each other, faces broken as Athos tried to reason with her and find a way.

Propping his head and his hands miserably, D'artagnan scanned the empty garrison; his fellow musketeers having finally took to their beds or the local tavern as they relaxed after the strain of it all, minds free and hearts light.

_If only he could follow._

"D'artagnan!"

A familiar female voice suddenly pierced through the night, accompanied by small, hurried footsteps that clacked over the cobbled streets before the entranceway to the courtyard.

The three men raised their heads expectantly to spy Constance Bonacieux scuttling towards them; face full of concern as she raced over to her lover, tears in her eyes as she embraced him in a tight hug.

"Don't you _ever _do that again!" she cried into his shirt, D'artagnan looping his arms around her waist and setting his head on top of hers and eyeing her vibrant red locks in confusion.

"Do what?" he questioned, seriously.

Constance leant back from their tight embrace to peer up at him with angry red eyes.

"_Leave -_without so much as a word- after an ambush!" Constance scolded, D'artagnans face settling into one of guilt as a tear slid down her cheek.

Her mind had been left riddled with worries and festering with paranoia after rumour filled words casting about the streets of Paris had met her doors and told her of four musketeers who had been taken down in an ambush -and left for dead.

Her heart had told her D'artagnan had been involved. _He always was_. And when she had rushed Treville for answers he had only been able to divulge information that D'artagnan had indeed been involved -but had come back only to leave once more in pursuit of his brothers, _and numerous armed assailants!_

_How dare he not tell her first! Did he not know what he meant to her!? She might not be able to show or reciprocate her love, but that didn't mean he should cut her out of his life indefinitely and blatantly ignore her! Especially with this kind of news!_

It was thanks to her husbands' mistake in updating Constance of D'artagnans' arrival back in Paris that afternoon, that she had been able to plot her visit to see him; lying in wait for the cover of darkness -so that her husband would be sleeping as she travelled to the garrison.

Her mind had been in overdrive as to the state of her lover -until she saw him sitting her, seemingly peaceful. Now it just made her angry with grief.

_That man desperately needed to be taught a lesson!_

D'artagnan quickly buried his guilt as he realized _she _had come to _him_.

Smiling down at her fondly, D'artagnan placed a peck on her forehead and happily took note of her unwinding muscles as she sank into him; feeling the anguish drain from her small body as she accepted he was indeed alive and back home.

"I was in a hurry" D'artagnan grasped feebly at the excuse.

Constance instantly slapped at his chest in annoyance but his wince didn't escape her notice -unfortunately for him.

"Are you _hurt_!?" she gasped, eyeing his stiff form warily, new worries burying into her mind.

"I'm fine, Constance" D'artagnan assured, pressing her hands to his chest lightly to force her roaming hands to a stop moving.

"I'm fine" he repeated; bowing his forehead to rest against hers so she could look up into his eyes; those entrancingly soulful brown orbs.

Aramis rolled his eyes and Porthos huffed out a laugh as Constance appeared to melt under his gaze.

_No one could resist D__'__artagnans__'__ puppy dog stares._

After the lovers had shared a small kiss, Constance stepped back hazily and straightened out the ruffles in her dress, eyeing each of the brothers with a curious gaze before taking to the figures in the window.

"What's going on here?" she demanded softly; her tone noticeably more friendly as her fluttering heart slowed to a more comfortable rhythm.

D'artagnan had the good sense to hold his tongue and look to his brothers for guidance; he didn't have the heart to cause her any more anguish.

"Well?" she complained, expectant and fierce gaze resting first on Porthos and then Aramis, both of whom eyed their boots; one man nervous, the other conflicted.

Constance sighed in frustration and pushed her way through the throng of annoying musketeer and over to the door.

_Athos was a man with some sense, he would tell her what on earth was going on _Constance decided as she barrelled in through the door.

Feeling slightly guilty at seeing she had interrupted an obviously difficult conversation Athos had been leading, Constance offered a weak smile and wandered over; now even more interested to see that he was with a strange, pretty woman.

She reasoned that whoever she must be, she was important. _The brothers didn__'__t allow just anyone to get close. _

At this, Constance instantly accepted the woman at face value as good hearted and well mannered; she would make sure to introduce herself.

Upon seeing his brothers pitiful gazes and somewhat apologetic demeanour at the doorway, Athos obligingly turned to Constance and into her eyes; searching her determined stare for a moment until he found the confidence he was looking for and began their collective tale of woe, right up to their current predicament.

As much as it pained her to hear of it, Constance remained quiet until the very end.

When he had finished, she took the couples' hands into her own from her place opposite the bed and rubbed them comfortingly -her face suddenly lighting up optimistically as a blessed idea struck her out of nowhere.

"Why, that's wonderful!" Constance exclaimed, beaming brightly -much to the astonishment of the others.

_Had Constance lost her mind!?_

Constance stumbled back in her approach as she realized what her statement must have sounded like, a look of horror marring her features,

"Oh, goodness no! I apologize! I didn't mean it like that!…" she floundered, loosening their hands as she gestured around frantically.

"You see, I've had a position open for a while now -I need a woman to help me with cleaning out the store and washing the drapes while my husband tailors and I take the orders" she explained herself hastily; glad to find their expression softening with delight.

"I'd be honoured to hire such a brave woman under my roof as you" Constance added, moving both her hands over to clasp Miriams' in her own; eyes tearing slightly at the raw emotion the woman was displaying towards her kind offer.

"I- I don't know what to say" Miriam hiccupped, throat thick as tears began to pour from her eyes and clutch at this generous strangers hands.

"Say yes" Athos joked softly but eyeing her seriously as he shifted to sit by Constance and hold her at arms length.

"_Thank you_" he uttered, voice thickening as Constance met his shining eyes and bowed her head in acknowledgment; embracing him in a light hug.

As the moment broke, Miriam sniffled and Constance let out a nervous laugh.

"Well, I'd best get back before _someone _notices I'm gone" she jested seriously, rising from the bed as she eyed the brothers knowingly; her light smile and saviour complex earning warm smiles all around.

"I'll be back to see you tomorrow -when you're fit... I'd like a word with you about your 'duties'" Constance added with a wink, heading over to D'artagnan by the door.

Miriam chuckled quietly at the double meaning in her words, knowing full well she was referring to Athos and giggling all the more at the looks of confusion on the mens' faces.

"I'd be glad to" Miriam replied and with that Constance let herself out, D'artagnan in tow to bid her adieu.

He'd intended to walk her home of course -but the knowledge of her husband and this whole 'staying upright' act was rather taxing as it was.

So instead, he simply let her depart with a final kiss of passion, watching her admirably before she turned the corner and he shuffled back over to the merry confines of the garrisons' sick quarters; the atmosphere as light as it had been these past few hours.

As the hours grew longer, the five merry occupants quickly took to reminiscing over happier times; their wine consumption aiding their efforts and forcing each member in turn to venture up to Athos' endless supply in his quarters, just to replenish their glasses.

_Eventually_, D'artagnan fell back into his bed in exhaustion and closed his eyes. He was snoozing away peacefully before long -his mind temporarily rid of Porter and his thugs so he could finally get a good sleep in, dreams filled with the loving presence of his family.

Miriam soon joined him as her tired -and more than slightly drunken demeanour- led her into giggling dreams in the bed she shared with Athos.

Athos smiled over at her happily as he heard another giggle by his side in the half light; he was overjoyed to have made it back home with his family. _Nothing ever felt as right as when he was by their side._

Of course this meant putting up with his remaining brothers' teasing and jokes as they dug back into the old rut that was their natural banter; and doing their best to outwit Athos and ruin his moment of peace.

And he had been doing a swell job of ignoring them too; out-manoeuvring their provocative jests and pokes for hours on end, until abruptly, one of their statements struck a chord and wouldn't let go.

"Admit it, you looove her" Aramis slurred teasingly, staring at Athos' back as he stumbled across the room as quietly as he could in search of the remaining wine that had obviously been drank long ago.

Porthos let out a small chuckle behind him as he'd turned to argue.

It was at that moment that Athos suddenly realized that he didn't _want _to protest the accusation. He _couldn__'__t_.

_He loved Miriam_.

Athos began to feel a strange tingling sensation flood his body as he accepted the truth in what had been meant as a jovial accusation.

_I love her__…__.I __**love **__Miriam__…_

The room began to take on a strange tilting slant and Athos felt his gut lurch up as he began to dangerously list sideways -the alcohol not being the cause this time.

His brothers' caught him before he could face plant himself onto the floor.

_Couldn__'__t have him messing up his handsome face _Aramis mused, -_It was perhaps his only saving grace against Miriams charms. _

He chuckled at the thought as Porthos helped carry the majority of their brothers limp weight back to his bed.

Resting their pale brother on the bed, Aramis bent over his head and peeled back his closed lids to inspect the dilated pupils underneath.

"Passed out" he grumbled over his shoulder, sharing a knowing smile with Porthos as the two men headed over to spare beds of their own.

They could tease him about it in the morning. Right now they were too tired…and those blankets looked awfully inviting.

**There you have it! Hope you liked it! Please leave a review and let me know!**


	32. The Final Insult

**Sorry for the delay, been busy! Thanks for all the kind reviews! Here****'****s the next chapter! Enjoy!**

It had been a painfully uncomfortable ride into Paris for Porter as the uneven, shadow filled meadows of the surrounding countryside meant his horse had tripped on every loose piece of turf and strewn pebble.

He was beginning to suspect it was doing in on purpose to throw its' new rider. _The old nag was so frustrating!_

And of course, the ride had only managed to get worse for Porter -as even when the first light of dawn split across the skies to alleviate stumbling into such hidden threats, the jutting cobblestones found on the most ruined outer-city streets still sought to slow and hamper their progress.

It was because of this, that Porter had quickly tired of the incessant jolts and taken to walking along side 'his' new stallion; tugging on its bridal and using it as a support line lest he trip, fall and break his neck.

He'd been fortunate enough to recover most of his strength against his damnable wounds while lodging at the farmhouse; his consumption of natural painkillers -that being large amounts of wine- had helped to take the edge off, at least long enough for him to walk and talk at the time.

But that had been _hours _ago and the throbbing pain now radiating out from his ribs had returned with a vengeance; seeking to become an infernal nuisance against his cause in building this new army.

And so, Porter trudged along; grumbling and kicking up a fuss along the way should any of his men look at him in the 'wrong way.'

As much as Porters' body had insisted he rest, today was a rather important day -one that could not be missed for anything and he found his strength growing all the more as he thought back to that burnt down home they'd passed -surrounded by his _dead _men.

Porter hadn't felt any amount of loss or misery over the sight, instead he felt angry.

Angry that they represented his wasted resources, that he had _wasted _good money on them only to have them defeated -_and _ruin his name.

_Those musketeers would pay for that. For all of this!_

Porter felt like groining at the memories of the musketeers but he forced out a smile instead. _Today would be the day he annihilated the musketeer regiment; sweep the rug out from under their feet while they weren__'__t expecting it. He could hardly wait to take over the compound as his own and get started with his new life._

He beamed all the more at the idea and brought his eyes back to the street ahead, stopping abruptly when he spotted a tavern on his right.

"Stop!" Porter called back gruffly; bringing his men to a halt behind him and handing off his bothersome stallion to the first man who came to take it off his hands.

Naturally, two of his men slid from their horses to take up a position by his side as Porter turned to enter yet another seedy tavern.

He could always get his men to hire muscle out to join their ranks, but Porter felt his knowledge over this delicate matter would mean he and he alone should be the one responsible for the enlistment of men.

He didn't want them picking out the scrawniest, weakest most incompetent fools to take part in this fight, he couldn't afford to lose this battle -and he certainly didn't want to pay any men unnecessarily.

_The goal was to take down at least _half _of the regiment, so they might stand a winning chance -not the other way around! _

_They could die off half way through the fight in the very least, but they needed to be strong enough to get at least that far first _Porter speculated grumpily.

Pirate man stepped over and briskly took the reigns from his waiting hands, eyes to the floor and away from his captains hard gaze as he took off for the 'establishment.'

Practically kicking the door down for him, Porters' man stepped inside and lead his captain in under his protection; eyeing the numerous shadowed forms rising from their seats within the dingy tavern.

There was a collective scrape of chairs across wood, clicking of pistols and cracking of knuckles as the brutes came over to face this new place threat.

_No one just kicked down a door in the court of miracles without meaning business._

Porter looked about, sizing up and maintaining glares with some of the largest, meanest men within that now strode over purposely. He refused to be intimidated. _That was his job._

"Morning, gentleman" Porter offered cheerfully; his fake and twisted smile not meeting his cold eyes.

"I come to you with a proposition -one that offers bountiful revenge and riches beyond your wildest dreams" he informed them smoothly; an air of confidence stemming out from his being to draw in their attention.

Most of the men faltered at this enticing bargain; lowering their razor sharp knives from face level and coming up short to stare at him expectantly.

One particularly large mans' height lead him to tower over Porter and reach the ceiling; his disgustingly foul odour reeking off his tattered clothes to fill the space by this strange visitor -who began fanning himself furiously.

Large overhanging brow scrunched together in offence over his small coal like eyes, the tall man bent lower so he could move his face within inches of Porters;' the menacing glare and intimidating closeness forcing the stranger to lean back ever so slightly.

"I swear, with this money you will be able to afford a bar of the finest soap" Porter taunted cheekily; forcing his head back into the space this giant was trying to force him from.

The giant man looked as if he were about to eat Porter for breakfast with that cocky remark but a second man interrupted the intense stare down.

"What d'ya mean, proposition?" a feisty looking man of five foot two sneered, pushing the men to stand at his feet demandingly, pistol dangling at his side.

Porter resisted the urge to sigh impatiently at the illiterate buffoon, "I _mean, _to declare a plan that would serve all of your best interests" he corrected, plastering on another 'friendly' smile.

The short man seemed to think about this answer for a second; scrubbing his dirty lice ridden hair with a moth eaten sleeve and ultimately looking all the more lost in his conclusions.

"What's this talk 'bout riches?" another man questioned, cricking his neck and rolling his shoulders as he took up Porters' other side; the giant man moving back noticeably as he looked to the smaller man in question.

_Probably his partner in crime _Porter guessed.

"Ah, yes! Riches beyond your wildest dreams" Porter repeated vaguely, sweeping his hand out and across as if he were showing mountains of sparkling gold coin lying before them; his toothy smile and alluring words drawing more men into the already crowded space by the door.

" An' 'ow would we be getting' these riches?" a third muscle torn brute inquired; his deep voice carrying over the see of stringy, dirt caked hair from somewhere by the counter of the bar.

"Simple. You join my forces outside" Porter informed the crowd, meeting each madly glinting stare while he secretly judged the lot and began picking the strong and powerful from the bony and weak.

"I want you fine young fellows to join my ranks -and I shall pay you handsomely for your involvement in the ensuing battle should you choose to join" he added quietly.

One particularly lean looking man suddenly took a stand from the shadows and lazily sauntered over; the crowd parting for him as he came, hat hung low over his face to conceal his features below.

The temperature seemed to drop a few degrees colder, the closer he came to Porter.

It reminded him something of a prized peacock strutting over -one that somehow held the power of death behind its fanciful feathers- and shining weaponry.

Stopping only a foot from his face, the new sinister man tipper the brim of his hat up over his eyes and back on his forehead; one black eye meeting his while the other milky blue orb looked on blindly.

"And how do we know you are speaking the truth?" the man growled; his hungry gaze raking over Porters' body as if he carried gold on him at all times.

Porter was happy to note that the men had not focused on the part about an ensuing battle.

_Perhaps they didn__'__t care__…__money had the ability to do all kinds of things to the mind after all._

Porter tipped his head to the side and offered a small lop-sided smile.

_This was the man he needed directing his army. Menacing, fearless, strong, relentless. A born killer -and natural leader too._

By now the whole tavern was holding its breath in silence; all wanting to hear what would be said next.

"Believe it or not, I was a lord once" Porter recalled fondly.

"-I hold bountiful wealth… in a place you know not of. All I ask is that you and your men join forces with mine. I am set about a vengeful quest and once I have completed it, I will acquire even more power and riches. You have my word" Porter finished smugly, holding the gaze of the man as he mulled it over.

After further inspection of his attire and a hard look into his face, the man nodded.

"Alright. I believe you" he replied in a growl, "-but if you seek to cross us down the line-" the man whispered, stepping into and against Porter to grip him by the collar, "I will slit your throat where you stand and feed your rotting corpse to the ravens" he seethed; glaring at him fiercely.

Porter waited for a second before inclining his head in acknowledgement; a light smirk still clinging to his lips.

_Let them think they have me trapped _Porter mused silently; brushing himself down and straightening out his flashy garb as the man let go and turned around.

"What's your name?" the man called over his shoulder.

"Porteur de la Mort" Porter revealed; a hush of whispers rising up from the patrons as they turned desperately around the sea of men to spy the infamous killer.

"-but you can call me, Captain" Porter added, causing the leader to snarl in distaste.

_What was the point in having a title if you didn__'__t use it?_

The man turned back to his fellows and raised his voice, "Men, we have acquired a temporary job by this mans' side" he began, motioning back to Porter, "You will follow his _every _command, whatever they may be" he added; Porter smiling evilly at the sentiment, boundaries now limitless.

_He had made a good choice in acquiring this man. The outcome looked much more promising with him by his side._

"If any of you have a problem with this enlistment, you will answer to me" he growled, glaring at them all with his one good eye, "Now get moving!" he shouted, shoving a man to send him sprawling back into the crowd and spurring the rest of the men stumbling back to their tables to grab their personal items.

The man smiled wickedly at his work; flashing his yellow set of teeth as he turned back to Porter, wandering back over to stand dutifully by his side while the men assembled themselves.

"I want an extra share of these riches" he grumbled quietly, still facing forwards to observe the amusing spectacle of flailing limbs and flashing swords as men fell about.

Porter looked over to the man, a frown on his face as he analyzed his new daring lieutenant.

"Very well" he muttered grudgingly, "-But this means _you _shall be doing the recruiting for the next few hours. You _will _pull your weight if you are to acquire such a bonus" Porter instructed, lip curling as he briefly pondered how he would kill off this man when it was all over.

The man nodded once, obediently accepting this new, tiresome responsibility. After a moment he turned to face his new captain again.

"You said there would be a battle…who's it against?" his man inquired -honest curiosity filling his tone as his voice dropped to a more even, friendly manner.

A few nearby men paused in their tasks of strapping on pistols and tightening leather gloves to look expectantly to Porter.

"The musketeers" Porter answered icily, not thinking to hesitate as his mind flew back a day and a half.

The man noticed Porters' jaw clench and observed his barely contained temper flare up underneath as he uttered the vile word.

A few of the men shared varying looks of uneasiness while others smiled evilly at the challenge.

They might be strangers, but those who lived in the court of miracles were thick as thieves in their similar mentality towards those of higher status.

Porter had known this from the beginning how they would feel about musketeers -and had no problem capitalizing on this potential market.

_Musketeers were certainly not on their __'__ally checklist.__'__ They would be more than happy to rid them of the streets of Paris_. Porter allowed himself to share a smile with the few men who openly regarded the musketeers with hostility and evil smirks.

_The removal of musketeers would certainly allow him to move more freely _the leading man mused from Porters' side; a small smile breaking out.

The short man tilted his head suddenly; expression one of deep thought as he cast his eyes back into his memory.

"Hey, ain't that where Porthos cowered off to?" he asked, eyes returning to any who would meet his gaze.

"Should I know this man?" Porter interrupted warily, thinking back to every man he had known to have that name -and coming up empty.

"Aye, he _was _one of us to begin with" the giant grumbled deeply, spitting on the floor, "-'till he betrayed us all and then left for the musketeer scum… right fierce fighter 'e was… no one cud take 'im down in a fight" the giant recalled, tone hinting as awe.

" …he was meant to be king o' this place…rising up as he was… but 'e was a coward at 'eart -since 'e left us 'ere to rot" he finished with a growl, kicking a chair away and snapping the seat cleanly of its legs; turning it into a pile of kindling.

Porter beamed at the chair, worries vanquished instantly.

_Porthos wouldn__'__t be a problem if he had this giant pile of muscle on his side._

Porter nodded in acknowledgement of the giants' story and assured the man they would teach this Porthos a lesson in loyalty before turning to the door.

"You have not asked me of my name" his lieutenant called back, forcing Porter to stop halfway through the doorway.

Sighing with frustration as Porter leant against the frame -having tried to leave the tavern at least five times now, he hastily replied, "You're _name _is 'lieutenant' as far as I am concerned! Now get on with your job" he barked and promptly exited the tavern.

Walking back to his horse Porter decided he should mount it this time -so his new men wouldn't be able to question his odd behaviour.

But before he could follow through with the action, his lieutenant followed him out into the street and abruptly gripped him by the arm, whirling him around on the spot to face the molten snarl that was now in his expression.

"My _name_, is Abaddon Delacroix" he reported icily.

Porter raised an eyebrow in amusement, "You must have had a splendid time spelling that out as a child" he retorted flippantly; pulling himself out of his lieutenants' grip and mounting his stallion.

Delacroixs' face set into stone as he glared up at his new captain, "Best watch your tone with me -I am _trying _to be civil here…. I _could _just pry the riches from your dead hands, you know" the man dared.

Porter smiled down frostily, "That's what you call civil?" he tutted, expression one of disappointment as he held the mans gaze a second longer before nudging his mount into motion and leaving him in the dust.

"Meet me back here in two hours!" Porter called over his shoulder; fully intent on stopping at a cleanlier establishment for a full meal before he should return, "-I want at least fifty men armed and waiting when I get back!" he shouted, already twenty feet away now.

Porter waited on no man.

Delacroix continued to watch his captains' retreating back with a glare that could ignite a candlestick.

_Maybe _he _should be the one to cross this man, instead of the other way around. These kinds of arrogant men needed to be taught a lesson in manners _-and Delacroix was a master in 'manners.'

He smiled wickedly and stepped back into the tavern; ready to issue new orders to his men -reporting their task to find more men -and tweaking his position to replace that of their 'captain' so he would have full control.

_That man would not live to see another sunrise. He would make sure of it._

But Porter took no heed of Delacroixs' icy glares and spiralling thoughts as he rode on ahead, unawares. He would much rather spend his recently acquired 'free time' to search for a meal.

He was tired of stale biscuits and wine.

_If he was to be the upcoming king of this dreary city, he should be able to eat like a king -and gain back the rest of his strength._

Porter smiled as the dark stallion on which he rode flicked its mane back and huffed out a snort in protest as if it could read his thoughts.

_It never had liked its new owner._

But Porter was determined to ride it straight back to the musketeers' brothers -and perhaps even the man himself, seeing as he had escaped the forest in which he had been defeated.

_It would be the perfect final insult._

Porter smiled and turned his eyes back to an inn at the end of the street, licking his lips as he continued forwards and wondering if perhaps he could steal a woman and a bed for the afternoon too.

_He didn't want to push his luck but there was no harm indulging yourself to boost the spirits before a fight -one he was sure he would win with his growing army of cutthroats and element of surprise on his side._

**So that****'****s the end of the set-up! Big battle next! Hope you liked this though- leave a review and let me know! Until next time!**


	33. Dive into Battle

**Thanks for the reviews for the last chapter! Yes, Porter needs to die ahah, I know! He will! Eventually****…**

**So this action sequence/battle is hella big, so I have divided it into 2 parts. I don****'****t want to say they are half chapters because they can stand alone (based on the brothers perspectives) but the chapter I post tomorrow will continue directly from here obviously. That will feature the epic finale with Athos too- but there is still action in here too!**

**I listened to the epic song: Protectors of Earth by Two Steps from Hell for this battle, just in case you want to try it out! Aaaaanyways, enough of my rambling, Enjoy!**

"What was that?" Porthos asked suddenly; stiffening in his seat by D'artagnans bed and looking to the ceiling, suspicion written all over his face.

"What?" Athos inquired, his easy joking demeanour ending abruptly and turning to one of high alert; his eyes following Porthos' searching gaze and sharpening his senses to whatever may be troubling his brother.

Miriam, D'artagnan and Aramis just as quickly cut out their playful banter and tensed in anticipation, all eyes growing wide and darting about the place.

The room had seemed peaceful enough only seconds before -with the rays of morning light flooding into the quarters and giving off a dusty orange glow; the rising warmth of the pleasant summer afternoon to come slowly heating the surfaces of white linen sheets and worn leather.

The only sounds had been the twittering of birds and quiet stirring of morning activities just outside the walls; the clinking echoes of a blacksmith at work on a horseshoe down by the stables being the only unnaturally occurring noise -but nothing out of the ordinary.

That was, until, there was a noticeable smashing sound of plates and muffled noises came to Porthos' ear from the balcony -hinting a commotion of some kind.

A second or two passed as the brothers sought to interpret what was happening; the three eldest rising slowly from their seats and peering about nervously, their small movements and tilted heads waiting for further information.

When a second bout of muffled noises interrupted the lulling silence once more, Porthos padded over to their idle weapons belts -treading lightly so as to not give away their position- as Aramis silently glided over to the half shuttered window pane to peer out.

"You 'ear that, right?" Porthos questioned again; pausing when he returned to the bed to hand over his brothers' weapons before shifting his attention back to his ears and listening intently.

The three brothers and Miriam nodded by way of agreement; their serious and thoughtful expressions enveloping the atmosphere in its rigidly tense grip.

"I don't see anything out of the ordinary-" Aramis began; bracing his arm against the wall and leaning further into the window so he might see further to his left and right.

But Aramis had spoken to soon -for it was then his eyes caught on the edge of a tussle at the far table in the courtyard; the flailing gloved hands and slipping boots seeming to struggle desperately for purchase against something that held them aloft.

_A musketeer was being strangled._

Aramis eyes bulged in horror and concern at this news, turning to reveal the ugly truth to his brothers' as his hand snaked down to his hip where his weapons belt now rested.

Unfortunately for Aramis, he had turned less than half way when the glass pane in front of his face shattered and exploded inwards; the arrow tip piercing through powerfully to narrowly sail past the musketeers temple as he continued to spin away and down and embedded itself in the far wall.

Glass splinters rained down through the small space, slicing shallow cuts on Aramis' forehead and cheek even as he fell ungracefully to the floor in a heap; Athos seeming to teleport across the room to his side and drag his struggling form away into the safer depths of the room.

A dull collection of thwacking sounds began to knock at the walls of the quarters followed by pained shouts that rang out above the brothers' heads. _An onslaught of arrows. _

Immediately after the thought had entered Athos' mind he heard the familiar voice of Treville bellowing above him.

"AMBUSH!" the captains' voice boomed out from above; the scuffling sounds of musketeer boots thumping hard against the wood as the dozing men fled their rooms, seeking to follow his warning in only seconds flat.

Aramis stumbled back to his feet even as he was dragged backwards by the arm pits; Porthos and Athos coming up to his shoulders to evaluate the extent of the damage as D'artagnan and Miriam folded back their sheets and strained to find their outdoor clothes.

"I'm fine" Aramis assured, gently pushing their supportive hands away as his feet became sturdy against the floor boards and his hands ventured up to pick the remaining glass splinters from his face.

Athos' look of concern suddenly transformed into one of fear, his frame stiffening and eyes widening before he swiftly turned back to D'artagnan and Miriam to glide between the two beds and all but haul the duo up and away -doing his best to ignore their sharp, pained intakes of breath as he ushered them across the floor to a new, vacant bed.

"Stay out of line from the windows" Athos commanded breathlessly, placing a firm hand on D'artagnans shoulder so he could give his protégé a hard stare that demanded his obedience.

Before the young man could respond, a deafening roar from sixty mens' throats split the through the air; the thunder of many more, new footsteps storming against the cold, hard earth with the accompanying sounds of grating swords ringing about the courtyard outside as their fellow man met the attackers.

Pulse hammering in his head as his chest constricted at the violent outburst, D'artagnan hastily nodded his acceptance of his brothers' terms alongside Miriam before promptly bending over to the boots he'd clutched onto. But Athos snatched them away.

_He couldn__'__t let the boy go out there, injured as he was__…__and somebody needed to protect Miriam! If these assailants were who he thought they were, then Miriam would be vulnerable to their merciless nature._

The scraping of an opening door against wood suddenly sounded behind him and Athos turned his upper torso just in time to see Aramis and Porthos exciting the quarters hastily; pistols in hand as they strode out with confident steps; eyes to the ensuing battle but ever watching for lofty archers.

"Stay here with Miriam" Athos instructed, hand back to the boys shoulders as he lingered nervously on the spot, intent on joining the battle as soon as possible.

Brow lined with conflicting emotion, Athos mirrored his youngest brothers' expression as he knew he must leave his family behind -possibly at the mercy of others.

_Duty called. He could not abandon the rest of his family…they should be safe here._

"But, Athos-" D'artagnan protested defiantly; his chest pushing weakly up against the palms that held down his shoulders, trying to rise from the bed to his feet.

"I _need _you to keep her safe" Athos interrupted, casting his eyes over to Miriam before returning back to his brothers -and feeling all the more guilty about the torn look now adorning his youthful face.

_It was true, he didn__'__t want to leave Miriam alone but he also couldn__'__t risk D__'__artagnan duelling it out in his fragile condition. Even if he was by his side during the entirety of the fight, he could not parry all blows meant for another while he too fought for his life. The boy could be stabbed and killed in seconds. _

_He could not risk it._

D'artagnan cast his eyes to the floor, the signal of defeat.

Athos clapped his shoulder once in reassurance and headed over to the open door; pulling his sword as he went and offering a final smirk of confidence.

"You can handle that, right?" he challenged in a low teasing tone; happy to see his brother look up with a slightly offended expression.

"'Course I can!" came the indignant retort.

Athos gave his brother a final nod of 'good luck,' then swept out through the door and into the crowded tangle of warriors now in the heat of battle.

As far as he could tell, there were approximately sixty strong brutes facing off against forty, semi equipped musketeer brothers -their vibrant blue cloaks standing out against the greys, browns and blacks of the opponents filthy clothing.

_Criminals from the court of miracles__…__? Or Porter and his men__…__?_

Athos recognized some of the anguished faces of his brothers' ex comrades when he weaved between the men; skilfully twirling around arcing swords and deftly dodging to the right of sailing battle axes -his own sword leaving long, deep gashes in flesh as he tore at open sides, vulnerable backs and bellies of foolish on-comers.

Ducking and rolling under what would have been a violent haymaker, Athos remained in his crouch and swivelled on one knee to drive his outstretched sword into the mans lower back; the pain of the blow arching the mans' back further onto the blade and ripping the handle from Athos' grasp as the man fell down upon it, dead.

Forced to turn back to the man -if only to retrieve his weapon- Athos shuffled over and rolled the man on his side with a boot; freeing his sword in a wide arc that sliced into the flesh of an attackers face as it sailed up, causing him to clutch angrily at the gash and dive for Athos with his four foot poker.

_Desperate times came for desperate measures, _Athos noted; taking in the makeshift weapon as he leaned back to avoid the mans' brutal swing; the tip passing inches from his face before the momentum carried it past.

With the attackers chest now open for assault, Athos lunged forwards and embedded his blade into the mans heart; kicking him back off the blade -not eager to make the same mistake twice- allowing the man to drop limply away from him and land in a bloodied heap on the floor.

_What motives did they have for such an attack? _Athos pondered as he walked away and whipped a dagger out from the small of his back, letting it fly like a missile to sink into an oncoming mans eye -then striding forth and bending over to retrieve it as he went.

_Perhaps Porter hadn__'__t bothered to wait__…__it was an entirely plausible notion given the mans__'__ seemingly impatient character__…_Athos speculated as he side-stepped a downwards thrusting dagger, grabbing the wrist of the outstretched arm and twisting it harshly until he heard a satisfying snap.

As the man cried out -and instinctively leaned back to cradle his broken wrist- Athos made his move, sweeping the legs out from under the man and thrusting the newly acquired dagger down and into the flesh of its owner.

_Nine men down and yet this place still seems to be swarming with criminals _Athos accepted grimly; his keen blue eyes resting a moment longer to pick out the darker tint of his brother, Porthos -who was currently slamming his fist into a mans face and throwing him to the floor- before spying Aramis' high feathered hat as the man strode up to Porthos' vulnerable back; his pistol trailing smoke.

Athos allowed himself a small smile of contentment then abruptly dropped to his knees to lean back under the low, horizontally arcing blow of a mans' scythe.

"Apparently criminals have access to farmhands tools" Athos muttered to himself, under his breath, slightly annoyed at the man for forcing his reaction when his side throbbed painfully.

_Have to hand it to them though, they sure are getting creative _Athos mused, replacing his long blade with a raised pistol to suit the new crowded position.

He really couldn't miss at this range.

The musket ball fired from the barrel of his pistol in a poof of sparks and smoke, the lead bullet cutting into the throat of the attacker overhead.

The man desperately clawed at his neck as torrents of blood spurted from his hole ridden jugular, the death scene spraying against Athos' worn leather doublet below.

Face scrunching in distaste, Athos quickly rolled to his feet just as the man toppled onto his face where he had lain; dragging up his sword as he looped the pistol back onto his belt and glided back into the fray -eyes always searching for the loathsome swine that was Porter.

~o0o~

Unaware he was being sought out, Porter continued to hang back by the outskirts of the battle; slashing at any mans' exposed back who happened to tumble back from the fight and driving him into the floor with his clean blade.

_He needed to store his strength for someone else, needed to keep his wits if he was to finish off the musketeer who had escaped the woods. His sword was marked for that mans throat__…__and he would kill that bitch too if he found her._

Porter felt his chest swell, burdened with glorious purpose.

_It was he alone who would kill off that coward of a man -he couldn__'__t have him spawning more lowly, death defying kin that would only become a thorn in his still healing side._

_But for now, he could wait. No need to rush… His sixty strong men should cut down half of the musketeers here first__…__wouldn__'__t want to be accidentally struck on his way in. _Porter wouldn't be deterred from his goal.

Of course this removed stance meant Porter had the pleasure of watching this fun spectacle unfold before him while he passed the time; eyeing Delacroix and his band of scary men rip mercilessly into the flesh of musketeers' while the leader himself travelled from one man to another, fists caked with blood and gore as he plunged his short blades into body parts without pausing in his journey to observe the injuries he'd inflicted.

The beam on Delacroixs' ghostly face quickly mesmerized Porter as he watched the man in awe; observing how he glided between the men smiling eerily even as he sliced his blade back and forth with practised ease and spat on any corpses he happened to come across.

The action reminded Porter a little of himself but he could hardly allow himself to get attached to the man, he would have to die before this was all over…

Porter absently wondered what had turned Delacroix into such a monster as he witnessed the man practically rip off a mans head.

He smiled_, It didn__'__t matter, it was none of his concern__…__but that musketeer might want to watch his back! Oops! Too late!_

Porter chuckled and leant back against the stone archway; the entrance to the garrison courtyard, his mind wandering aimlessly as he thought back to the history lessons he'd receiving in his youth about the famous stories regarding gladiator battles and the kings who watched them.

_This must be what it was like to be king… _Porter grinned.

~o0o~

Meanwhile, in the heat of the battle, Porthos was working on putting his heart and soul into taking down as many verminous creatures that dared to approach him; burying his fist into guts and faces as he shuffled forth in an attempt to retrieve his beloved schiavona cutlass.

It had been inadvertently flung from his grasp when his knuckles were rapped by a broom handle -to the musketeers' dismay.

Of course, that particular attacker had died with a quick snap of the neck, but Porthos was still cut off from his main form of self defence and it bothered him greatly to do battle without it.

It was after he had slammed yet another body into the floor with his favourite slam dunk manoeuvre that Porthos spotted a familiar grime smeared face within his immediate surroundings.

_It was the face of a man he had once known in the court of miracles -not really a friend but never an enemy… an older man who__'__d taught him a move or two back in the day, shared some common stories of hardships, found comfort with in the dark hours._

And now the man was facing him; his blade bloodied from the flesh of his new brothers, a mad sparkle to his fierce gaze as he took pride in his cruel work, his spittle flying about as he screamed out provocative curses amongst the yells as he slashed away.

Porthos grimaced as he felt his heart tug in two directions, his emotions flayed raw with betrayal when his old friend spotted him and charged; a wickedly gleeful grin taking to his face at the thought of taking down the unarmed but mighty Porthos.

Desperately fumbling around his weapons belt, Porthos suddenly felt the butt of a pistol and snagged it out from the belt; raising it slowly with a regrettable shake of his head and fired -the man catching the lethal shot to the chest and falling back with a dying howl.

Despite what he should be feeling in this moment -perhaps relief or happiness- Porthos felt his system wash with guilt at the sight of his old dying friend who lay gurgling at his feet, by his hand.

Porthos barely thought to act as he reached out his arm to clothesline a running assailant; his mournful eyes still locked onto the figure.

He was knocked out of the pitiful trance, however, when a clap to the shoulder spun him around on his heel; his fist rising instinctively as his expression changed to one of bewilderment.

_He had _never _been manhandled. He never let them get _that _close._

But his raised fist froze when he recognized the bloodied face of his lightly smiling brother, Aramis; the mans' brow scrunched together sympathetically as he took a moment to bring his brother back to his senses -and prevent the attack on his mind.

"You did what you had to do" Aramis called out over the clash and yells of battle; Porthos looking over his brothers' sweat and muck covered strands of hair that hung into his eyes, the flecks of gore painting on his face and the sincerity of his warm eyes that sought to capture his attention.

Aramis shook Porthos roughly as he saw the slightly wandering gaze drift further away, ripping the man from his stupor with a comforting sentiment.

"You have a _new _family now, Porthos. We will not betray nor abandon you…so please, do not abandon us. Come back to me now, Porthos. Come fight with us" Aramis encouraged, his sincere gaze flickering only once as he rammed the butt of his gun out to smash an assailant in the teeth -as if to emphasize his words in a final punch.

Porthos nodded mutely, his darker thoughts sliding to the back of his weary mind as his eyes suddenly took in a man charging Aramis' back.

Without hesitation, Porthos shoved Aramis aside and out of the way- dearly hoping that he hadn't thrown his brother onto a protruding sword while he faced off against this new threat.

Tossing the used pistol to the floor, Porthos quickly scanned his surroundings for a new weapon and spied a plate of breakfast on a nearby bench -no doubt placed there earlier by Serge to serve that particular musketeers hungry stomach.

_It was a good job he hadn't eaten too _Porthos mused, stepping over to the plate laden with the usual rations of fresh bread, a small slab of salted meat, some cheese, berries and a cut of fruit.

Porthos smiled evilly as he noticed a smaller pile of fruit sitting by the plate where amidst the colourful section was his most favourite fruit of all. A melon.

_It__'__d have to do!_

Without a moment to lose, Porthos stepped further to his left, leant over, scooped up the melon and lobbed full force at the face of the oncoming man, now only four feet away.

Thanks to the power of his toned arms, the speed at which the melon flew in such a short distance rivalled that of a canon ball; the force behind the fruit smashing into the mans' grubby face, knocking his teeth flying and instantly breaking his nose to push the bone fragments up and into his brain from the blow, killing him where he stood.

Both man and melon fell to the floor in a spray of blood and watery juice, crumpling in a heap to add to the already littered ground of bodies; the blood of those musketeers and criminals flowing together to blend as one -appearing exactly the same in death as it should have been in life.

Before Porthos could think about it further, Aramis returned to stand by side and marvel at his work; smirking with approval and slapping him on the arm fondly, "That's the spirit!" he jested, his playful smile provoking a light smile from Porthos.

_He could always depend on his brothers being there for them when he needed them. His __**real **__brothers. _

Porthos nodded once in appreciation as both men turned back to the more serious battle at hand -Aramis darting off to aid a fellow musketeer barely holding his own as he faced off against three- while Porthos hung back to face off the circle of foes in his area -a replenished strength of mind doubling his efforts as a confident smile took to his lips.

**~o0o~**

Never one to sit back while his brothers were in danger, D'artagnan had almost instantly risen to his feet the moment Athos had left the room to slip on his boots and cautiously pull his brown leather jacket over his shoulders.

These actions alone had served to drain away his already weakened state, leaving the young man nauseous and dizzy and thus forcing him to rest a hand on the post at the foot of his bed while he righted his senses.

_He would not sit back down, lay here and do nothing. He would not._

Miriam looked over to him, face full of concern and worry -but unable to help as she too was in the same predicament.

"Athos told you to stay" Miriam reminded D'artagnan, chastising his lethargic but determined movements as he stumbled to stand on his own two feet; knees sagging under the pressure of remaining upright independently.

Miriam had purposely avoided stating that his task was also to 'look out for her well being' as she knew the boy didn't need any more pressure on his shoulders.

_Besides, Athos had left them with a spare pistol, she was sure she__'__d be more than prepared to protect herself, if necessary _Miriam reasoned.

Blearily reaching out to a wall for added support, D'artagnan turned his head slowly over to the woman; his eyes rolling slightly from the minor movement.

"Can't" he panted, "Gotta…help" he moaned, sliding forth against the wall to run his hand along it as he went; slowly heading towards the door on unsteady feet.

Miriam processed the young mans' words and filed his behaviour down to stubbornness and loyalty.

"You're in no shape to fight like that" she motioned, "-you'll get yourself killed!" she added, raising her voice as she sat up slightly, hiding her wince as D'artagnan hastily moved to the door.

At her words, D'artagnan sagged against the wall by the door for a moment; acquiring his weapons belt and strapping it around his waist with uncooperative fingers, until eventually, he managed to pull it tight just below his bandages -all the while he stalled to think up a response that might appease Miriams' worries.

"I won't fight" D'artagnan muttered, looking back over to the bed so he could hold her gaze with as confident a stare he could muster.

"-just gonna watch their backs…an' call to them if someone sneaks up behind" he slurred, blinking his eyes numerous times and looking away to focus his vision.

He heard a frustrated sigh from across the room and looked back up to see Miriam fold her arms across her chest, "At least let me help you?" she begged.

D'artagnan shook his head violently in denial; instantly regretting the rolling sickness that overcame him at the motion.

Gagging slightly until his stomach calmed back down, D'artagnan frowned at Miriam. "Not gonna… happen" he panted, "-Just stay here…guard the, uhm, medical supplies" he floundered, looking about.

"Ha! Ever the comedian I see" came Miriams' sarcastic huff as she braced herself to sit straighter.

"_Please_. Just stay where you are safe. If you were to get hurt-… I could _never _forgive myself...and Athos…Athos would spiral into ruin" D'artagnan admitted; a foul taste claiming his mouth at the thought of Athos losing his mind with grief yet again and sinking back into his drinking habits with renewed vigour.

Miriam contemplated his plea for a second, clearly conflicted with the thought of letting this unfit young soldier trudge out into a battle to risk his own neck -even though she had some power to stop him.

_But he had that look about him. _

_The one that told her he was going out there whether she liked it or not. That he had a duty to look over his brothers, that no matter the order in which their ages fell, if he had the power to save them, then it was his responsibility to do so._

Miriam nodded reluctantly; swallowing thickly as worry and guilt knotted in her painfully contracting stomach muscles, managing to catch D'artagnans' sympathetic gaze before he excited the room -still sliding along the walls.

Miriam had tried.

Almost as soon as the young man had left, the cook -of whom she had heard of briefly by the name of Serge- had rushed in, arms laden with numerous bottles of wine that he quickly set down on the bed by the door, then kicked it shut.

Luckily for Miriam, Serge had not been an enemy for she would not have raised and fired her pistol in time had it been one of those criminals.

Miriam briefly scolded her poor lack of foresight and preparedness before turning her attention to the regiments' cook -who had only just now, noticed her in the bed.

"Mind 'elpin' me with these?" he panted, gesturing at the bottles with one hand while he ripped the sheets off a bed with another and began to tear them into strips.

It had taken a fair amount of time, but Miriam had eventually managed to reach the bed by Serges' side, more than willing to help him with whatever task this may be.

"Thanks" Serge nodded, offering a brief smile to her serious face.

"Right, well I need ya t' tear up these here linens, uncork those bottles, shove 'em in the tops an' then shake 'em about a bit, okay?….Think you can do that?" he asked, eyeing her as she nodded.

"I can do that…but what are these for?" Miriam questioned, eying the bottles curiously just as Serge pulled a set of matches from his back pocket.

"We's gonna make some fire bombs" he confessed gleefully, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.

Miriam shared the smile as she realized what they were about to do, "You just keep to that task while I pick up the ready ones and light 'em" he informed, already striking his match to light the first bottle he'd prepared.

Miriam nodded and began with the task, "Just make sure you don't hit our boys" she warned, looking up from the bottles for a second to instil the man in the significance of that statement.

Serge nodded, "Aye, don't you worry. I was a marksman myself at one point" he admitted, grin on his face, "My leg might've given out, but my sight an' this arm aint" he chuckled, lighting the fabric, kicking the door open and lobbing it out.

As Serge had boasted, his aim was true and the sailing bottle struck the back of an attacker -the flaming cloth instantly spreading into fiery tendrils that followed the spilt wine now covering his garment while the glass dug into his back -both assaults leading the damned man scream out in pain and dance about wildly.

Serge smiled at his work and stepped back in the door.

"That's what ya get for messin' with musketeers!" he growled happily, accepting the second prepared bottle from a smiling Miriam before sliding back out with the second makeshift bomb.

_That women sure __'__ad a fire in __'__er _Serge mused, -_No wonder Athos is so fond of __'__er_!

He chuckled at the thought as he lobbed the second bottle out over the battle field; allowing it to break on the ground and light the dry hay.

…_Maybe if they cut the attackers up into sections with its blazing wall, they might be able to help his brothers deal with the sheer numbers _Serge speculated, watching as the flames rose high and travelled far around the twisting men; a haze of thick, black smoke rising up from the ground.

_Either way, there was no going back now__…_

**That****'****s it until tomorrow -as im not done editing the rest! LOL. Still a lot more action to come featuring all of the brothers!**

**Let me know what you thought of it! Thanks : )**


	34. Tooth & Nail, Bucket & Broom

**Thanks for the reviews! With this chapter, we have passed 100,000 words so let me just say HOLY ! #$%^&*()(*&^%$## ! (yes I punched the keyboard -a few times).**

**MASSIVE THANKS to every one who provided me with the support and kind reviews that got us this far! It****'****s amazing what you can do with a community of passionate readers around you ;D**

**Here****'****s part 2 of 3! …yes…**_**that **_**happened :/ I hope the loooong intense action chapter makes up for my delayed ending. I'm sorry, I tried but I couldn't skip the details!**

**Hope you like it anyway! Enjoy!**

Once he was out in the courtyard, D'artagnans' acute sense of smell had him bending over and gagging again; the thick smell of copper blood, rancid body odour, smoke from discharged muskets and the combined sight of carnage before him being too much for his body to handle all at once.

As his body finally restored its faculties -after retching a while longer- D'artagnan continued on his mission to find his brothers; peering through pain-filled, teary eyes at the ongoing battle before him.

Flinching back when a bottle smashed against the ground and set the hay aflame, D'artagnan did his best to ignore the blood curdling screeches calling out of the flames as the tendrils climbed higher and the men began to dance like the fire itself.

Grimacing as the sight of flames reminded D'artagnan of the towns he had passed, he quickly looked away and slid further along the wall towards the stables; still intent on finding his brothers but now newly concerned for the welfare of their trapped horses.

Stepping lightly over strewn corpses as he went, D'artagnan kept his eyes on the fighting men; a deep seated anguish clutching at his heart as he took in the garrison covered in such bloodshed, _on their own soil. _

_This was meant to be a place of peace! The final sanctuary against whatever horrors may try to strike them down beyond its walls. A safe haven. A happy place in a world of darkness. Home._

…_now there was only slaughter and __**death**__._

D'artagnan shook his head of those thoughts and braced himself against the wall, unsheathing his silver sword from its scabbard -ready to fight if necessary, but holding back if he was left unnoticed by the enemy.

Thus far, it seemed he had been lucky -as the men fighting on the outskirts of the battle had paid him no piece of mind; focusing rather on the more pressing matter of saving their own skin against the onslaught of dangerously sharp, flying steel blades.

_This was hardly an honourable way to go about pursuing his brothers _D'artagnan noted guiltily. _No sense of decency, cowering here behind the fight, leaving his brothers to face off the attackers, alone__…_

_But he could hardly go charging in there after them without so much as a second thought for his own safety _he reasoned.

_He__'__d be no good to them dead._

D'artagnan did his best to seek comfort in this thought as he moved over to the hitching posts within the stables; completely unaware of the man following at his back closely.

~o0o~

As the attackers fell under the bloodied blades of the waning musketeer forces, a seemingly endless drove of criminals clambered across the rooftops above to descend upon the courtyard in a sort of aerial assault.

Appearing to imitate the grim saying, 'death on swift wings,' the new assailants swept down from above onto the backs of unsuspecting fighters; digging blades into backs and crushing faces into dirt, all claiming the souls of their victims as they joined the battle, thirsty for more.

Despite the hard blow to the regiment, the battle waged on, its stormy, swirling depths -filled with those of the dead- tripping up the living onto open blades; death quickly inviting the fallen unto a slumberous journey that none could wake from.

It _was _a peaceful alternative -one that promised a valiant death as men lay down to sleep among their brothers. Free of guilt, pain, suffering, regret…

But not so peaceful and enticing an offer for any man to give up _entirely_.

That 'giving up and giving in' statement wasn't in the musketeer motto nor could it be found in the thick handbook that held the code of their brotherhood -and it never would be.

And so the musketeers continued to fight until they could fight no more -some prevailing in their efforts to strike down any who opposed them while their fellow man met his end under the blade or arrow of an assailant.

It wasn't hard to see that no one was truly winning here.

Both sides still fought to dominate -now forty weak criminals versus twenty battle hardy musketeers.

The regiments' ability to endure and persevere against such odds was impressive to say the least, proving them worthy of their titles and legendary stories; only serving to kindle hope into the bodies of the men.

But then again, sheer numbers alone always held the promise of victory -no matter your title or skill.

And so the brotherhood of musketeers could only fight harder to ensure _that _possibility didn't become the reality.

As the day crept towards noon, battle cries rang out as the battle dragged on; the clashing of swords, heavy stomping of tired feet, clinking of spurs, pounding of flesh, agonized screams of the wounded and the gurgling of the damned and dying all meshing together in an dreadful din.

It was enough to make any sane man lose his nerve and flee for the hills.

And true enough, amongst these men was perhaps the most insane-sane man of them all, as the warrior purposely strode right into the centre of the fight; weaving and ducking under or around swords, axes, daggers, flying arrows and walls of flame -his valiant efforts spurred on by his sole mission -to seek out the man he hated most.

Athos refused to give up, refused to give in. Even as his side throbbed horribly from the wound as stitches tore themselves apart with each violent twist of his body and thrust of his blade, he trudged on.

Flinging himself to the side of a man who ran at him like a bat out of hell -his sword raised high like a javelin, Athos quickly turned to greet the man with his own sword as he ran abreast; sticking out his boot to trip him forwards, then, clubbing him over the back of the head with a violent blow from the butt of his pistol.

Athos had run out of lead by this point, but his gun still faired as a relatively good bludgeon.

_Waste not, want not__…__or however that silly sentiment went _Athos pondered idly as he caught a blade in his thickly gloved hand and yanked it away from a man; thrusting its pommel back into the owners' face, straight into his eye and effectively dropping him with a pained scream.

Honestly, Athos couldn't be bothered with the manner in which they fell -as long as his brothers won this fight, he would use _whatever _manner of techniques and 'weapons' that he could get his hands on.

_And if that meant stooping to Porthos__'__ fork… then so be it. But hopefully it wouldn__'__t have to come to that -especially since there seemed to be no cutlery lying around _Athos mused; scanning the area as he cut across the back of a man with his blade before promptly dropping to the floor as a nearby musket fired loudly.

Standing back to his feet as soon as the coast was clear, Athos lunged forwards to run another man through the chest smoothly as he pulled his stolen dagger out from his belt, and, twirling it once in his palm, plunged it into the chest of a man who'd been lucky enough to get a shot in at a musketeer who now lay on the floor.

Unable to feel satisfied, Athos began to shift again but was suddenly rammed from the side and knocked off his feet; tumbling through a wall of flame to lie on the other side as a wild eyed, feisty looking attacker followed him through clutching a menacing looking Koncerz sword -its extreme length and pointed tip meeting inches from Athos nose as the man grinned overhead.

Growling low in the back of his throat, Athos batted the sword aside, grabbed hold of the blade and rammed it into the floor -thus yanking its owner forwards.

Raising his boots up against the mans chest, Athos kicked his legs up and out and sent the attacker flying back into the wall of flame as he rolled to his feet and thrust the sword out after him- a howl of pain rising above the cries from the other side.

Athos allowed himself a small smirk, then started to turn back to the fight at hand -his quick reflexes leading him to lean back and dodge the meaty set of knuckles that had been flying towards his face, avoiding the haymaker altogether.

Tipping his form slightly, Athos barrelled into the man at the waist -driving him off his feet and carrying him for several paces until finally his back slammed into his a support beam.

The impressive force with which Athos had driven the man into the beam resulted in a large crack and splintering of wood that left his foe doubled over and winded, no doubt with a set of broken ribs.

Letting the man slump down against the wood, Athos turned side ways to seek a new opponent -and apparently miss the long pike meant for his back as a stealthy new assailant leant in for the kill.

The mans' momentum carried him through the motion -despite the fact Athos was no longer standing there -the outcome resulting in stabbing and pinning his own comrade to the beam, killing him.

Turning back to the sorry spectacle he had narrowly missed, Athos pushed the dumb brute onto the opposite end of his own sharpened weapon; effectively hanging both dying men by the midsection like some sort of horrific mantelpiece.

Looking on with disappointment shining in his eyes over the unnecessary lives lost, Athos moved away and back into the fight; his keen eyes picking up his brothers in the bloodshed as he searched for Porter.

_No such luck yet, _Athos sighed, _but he would find him sooner or later__…he would not allow him to cause his family any more harm, but if he managed it, it would be over his dead body._

~o0o~

Before he could address the semi circle of men standing around him, a particularly large giant of a man swaggered over through the fray and made it known to Porthos that he was the intended target.

Porthos grinned up at the challenge; cracking his knuckles, rolling his shoulders and beckoning the man to enter the 'arena' with two gloved fists.

The man looked familiar to Porthos but he couldn't quite place where he'd seen the man before. _Somewhere in the murky depths within the court of miracles, probably__…__ where the beasts of society resided _Porthos accepted glumly.

_There was no way the appearance of such a brute could ever roam free without being judged__…he __would never be accepted into an upper class society. _

_He__'__d found it hard enough as it was -and he looked at least half way normal!_

The towering man cricked his neck in response and threw down his sword; stretching out his thickly muscled arms and shaking them about as if he was preparing for a boxing match.

_Fine with me! _Porthos' grin broadened as he copied the motion and threw down his own weapons; beginning to circle opposite his new opponent_. _

_I can gather m' stuff up after 'm done with the big fella__…__.shouldn__'__t take too long._

After feigning a few fake attacks, Porthos became impatient with the giant of a man and decided he would make the first move and initiate the fight.

Porthos struck without warning; darting forwards into the mans space and planting one hand on the mans shoulder as he curled up an iron left hook and rammed it into the mans large abdomen.

_Usually _such a crippling blow would incapacitate the average man…but this was no average man.

To Porthos, the impact had felt like someone had slammed his hand in a closing door and then trodden over his broken fingers with a horse! -all while the man laughed out loud at his feeble attempts.

Hissing in pain, Porthos withdrew quickly; flexing his fingers and doing his best not to wince as he glared up at the man.

The giant of a man let out another hearty laugh at the musketeers' expression, shaking his head as he smiled down at Porthos with a wag of his finger; scolding him for punching him -as if he were a child.

Feeling highly insulted -and slightly embarrassed- by the man, Porthos growled low in his throat and chucked himself back at the enemy; this time stomping down on the giants foot and shoving a fist into his jaw when the man reflexively bent over to respond to the first pain.

Reeling back from the second blow and stumbled two feet back, the giant rolled his painful jaw when he came to a stop -his expression darkening with anger as he caught sight of Porthos' smug face.

With a furious roar the man bounded back towards Porthos; slamming into another man when Porthos suddenly side stepped the raging bull at the last moment.

Both attackers went down in a heap and Porthos made sure to snicker loudly at the spectacle before he rammed his fist into an idle onlooker and shook out his bloodied fingers before returning his attention back to the giant now getting to his feet.

Porthos nodded skywards when their eyes met; provoking the man to take another shot at the notoriously undefeated champion of brawls.

Lip curling into a snarl, the giant lunged at Porthos again, monitoring the traitorous cowards movements -should he choose to side step him again.

But this time, Porthos accepted the charge; grabbing the man by the shoulders and straining to hold him at arms length as he dug a boot into the dirt and raised his knee sharply to catch the man in the midriff.

This only caused the man to grip his own shoulders tighter from the painful blow; digging in his nails before he flipped Porthos around and down onto his back; swivelling to follow the movement and follow up with a kick to the face.

However, Porthos had been expecting this manoeuvre. _He knew how to fight dirty, knew all the dirty tricks. Hell, he__'__d invented half of them!_

And so, he easily rolled out of the way; twisting onto his knees as his open hand swept across the hay, dirt and grit -collecting a sizeable amount of muck before he shot back to his feet and fluidly flung it at the giants eyes.

With a pained roar of frustration the giant tumbled back blindly; hands clawing at the debris in his eyes as Porthos swiped a foot under his legs and shoved the man backwards -the result of which sent him crashing to the floor with a surprised yelp.

As Porthos settled over the man, ready to finish him off happily, the giant aimed a kick at Porthos' shin and effectively took out the sturdy leg with a wave of pain -the imbalanced stance knocking him to the floor.

Before he had even realized what had happened, the giant blindly scrambled over and knelt above Porthos; sitting on his chest as his fingers curled around his vulnerable throat, and _squeezed_.

Eyes tearing up at the painful pressure exerted onto his throat, Porthos bucked up against the man, scratching at the meaty fists and fighting for release. But neither approach garnering any success.

Becoming desperate, Porthos threw a fist into the air towards the giants face -but the mans long arms gave him the advantage of escaping the range of the blow entirely.

Pressing onto the musketeers windpipe harder as his vision cleared enough to see what he was accomplishing; the giant began to smile down at the writhing musketeer.

_He would gain much respect among his comrades if he were to take out Porthos; the legendary warrior from the court of miracles. _His wicked grin grew into a beaming smile at the thought; tightening his fingers even more, hoping to finish the man off faster.

Porthos continued to wriggle underneath the man; bashing at the restraining arms and fingers, bucking up his hips and legs to throw him off, shaking his head around to bite at the man or loosen the hold.

So far, nothing was working -and Porthos' vision was failing rapidly thanks to the massive adrenaline rush he'd been riding throughout the battle. His already drumming heart beat was now clogging up his veins with excess blood as the fingers chopped off his circulation and starved his lungs of oxygen.

In a last ditch attempt to rip free, Porthos flung his hands about the ground around him; searching for his strewn weapons -or sharp, heavy objects that might prove useful against the giant.

_He should have _never _been so cocky and thrown them down, now he was paying for it! _Porthos' conscience chided him.

Suddenly, Porthos felt his fingers brush across something coarse, thin and prickly just out of sight and tugged it over hastily as his eyes began to assume a tunnel vision perspective while the daylight dimmed down to a dull grey.

To his surprise, Porthos found the item he held was the rope used for hanging up the sacks of grain -upon which he'd painted rough rings, _numerous _times, for Aramis' target practise.

_Good enough!_

Porthos gathered all of his strength into his right arm, lowered it slightly and then punched upwards as hard as he could.

The giant felt pain for the second time as his ribs encased themselves in fire and ice -the breathless feeling leaving him reeling back from the force of the blow before slumping forwards limply; his fingers loosening ever so slightly.

Not one to waste the opportunity, Porthos dragged in a small breath as he quickly draped the rope over the back of the mans neck and pulled it down over the other side before wrapping it back up and around the giants neck a second time and finally tying it tightly at the base of his adam's-apple.

This _was the new version of strangling _Porthos mused, as he took in a delicious lungful of air -the man having let go of his throat in shock and instinctively trying to escape the choke hold but inadvertently tightening the rope as he pulled back against the makeshift noose.

Having the advantage of holding the trailing section of rope, Porthos pulled back against the reeling giant even harder; matching the strain of the man as he rolled over onto his side, now that his body was free.

With the tugging motion, the giant was dragged onto his face; mashing his purple lips into the dirt as he continued to struggle against the damning bonds, arms wind-milling around desperate for purchase on his enemy.

But Porthos wasn't satisfied yet. He was going to get his revenge.

Rolling to his knees, Porthos followed his hand along the rest of the rope and spotted its end tied to a large sac propped up on an overhanging beam -slack for the time being.

With a victorious grin, Porthos kicked the support beam and knocked the sac loose - gravity jolting it down and hauling the giants neck up and tightening the noose all the more.

Although the giant could not be held aloft by the meagre sac, the rope cutting into the flesh of his neck was tight enough to follow through with the death sentence; his thick prying fingers unable to worm their way under the noose to untie the knot. The giant dropped to his knees.

Porthos smiled down at his adversary; still panting heavily and taking a second to rub at his raw, tender neck and scrub at his bloodshot eyes.

_The giant had been strong -almost _more _than his match it seemed. But with no oxygen any man could be reduced to nothing._

Porthos let his grin fade as the giant flopped down onto his face; no doubt having passed out in the dirt where he would soon asphyxiate and die.

Porthos grunted and scuffed some dirt towards the man as he turned his back and headed back into the battle; this time heading for the stairs -planning to use the balcony railing so he could climb onto the roof and 'take out' the pesky archers.

His grin returned at the thought of sneaking up on the men and head butting them off the roof.

Alas his common sense had returned with his oxygen and Porthos wisely scooped up his weapons as he assumed this new mission. He could settle for shooting or stabbing them instead.

~o0o~

As Porthos sauntered over with a purposeful stride, Aramis offered his brother the incline of his head and a mocking bow; a cheeky smile to his lips as he kept up the light hearted humour with his friend.

_Had to keep his mind happy and in the moment _Aramis reasoned.

_Besides, it was rather amusing to watch his attackers pause at the unexpectedly gentleman like pose _-their expressions of bewilderment made him giggle internally.

Aramis raised his pistol in the short space between his attacker and pulled the trigger -the lead ball burying its way between the mans eyes and dropping his shovel at the musketeers feet.

_Couldn__'__t have it messing up this handsome face now could I?_

Chuckling somewhat eerily, Aramis spun around -flipping his pistol as he went- and clubbed a waiting man in the face who had once stood at his back. _Surprise!_

Aramis would much rather use his guns as clubs by this point. He didn't like the responsibility of waiting for the right moment to fire…it reminded him of Arthur's wife.

Aramis shivered as the dark thought randomly flung itself into his mind and caught him off guard; the split second of indecision earning him a painful fist to the kidney and dropping him to one knee.

Growling at his rookie mistake, Aramis intentionally fell limp to avoid the next descending blow before rocketing back up and catching his attacker in the side -knocking him to the ground and treading harshly on the open arm; breaking it loudly with a stream of curses.

Getting back to his feet, Aramis swiped a shard of glass up from the floor, wandering away a few paces and digging it into the chest of a distracted man before ripping it free just as quickly -so he didn't waste time, embedding the shard into the vulnerable neck of an attacker only a moment later, who had been busying himself with one of his fellow kin.

_Not today! _Aramis vowed, a smirk on his lips asthe man instantly crumpled to the floor; pawing at the wound with gurgling groans -completely at a loss as to who had inflicted the damage.

Pacing over to a crowd of men, Aramis walked up behind the group and let off two more shots from his pistols -one of which he had stolen, the other, his own prized possession; both bloodied to death with gore.

_He would need to clean them later… _Aramis pondered grimly. It was a nauseating task but one that must be done lest he decide colour the rest of his attire in crimson to match his weapons.

Picking up a bucket of water from the floor, Aramis flung the contents into the face of a man in the crowd; momentarily blinding him while he swung it around by the handle and bashed him upside the head, knocking him out cold.

Aramis let the bucket sail overhead with the swinging momentum and smiled mischievously as it crashed down on the head of another assailant, dropping him too.

Chortling lightly, Aramis went about snatching a propped broom by the side of the stalls and cracked it off the back of another; sending him to the floor with the blow and jabbing the second half of the brush up, and to the side, to poke another man in the eye.

_Perhaps he should improvise with his weapons more often! Taking enemies down with buckets and broom handles was much more slow and entertaining than simply stabbing and shooting them._

_It was too bad neither would fit in his saddle bags -or fit easily onto his belt__…_He may have followed through with the hilarious armament had it been possible.

_And the look on Athos__'__ face would have been priceless!_

Aramis chuckled lowly at the thought as he rammed his elbow back into someone's face and drove that same arm forwards to slap a second man flying past; relishing in the look of astonishment the man gave him before he drove a proper punch into his jaw that sent him flying.

Ducking beneath an arching blade, Aramis shot back up to his full height and twisted his torso to stab the man with his own sword; pushing and twisting the hilt against his ribcage before tearing it free -hands becoming thick with blood.

As gruesome as it all was, Aramis enjoyed the heat of battle. Enjoyed the rush that came with the chance of something going wrong -even though his skills as musketeer always prevented that from happening.

_The act of fighting proudly by his brothers__'__ sides, protecting the ones he loved, protecting king and country. The purpose in life it gave him. The motivation that the daring career drove into his heart to accomplish more, see more than most, do more than any one man could. He could never get enough._

Aramis lived for battle -as ironic as it was- and he didn't care who knew.

And so he fought with a smile; a gliding flow to his movements as he danced around his attackers, weaving and dodging in gracious shifts -his fleeting presence only observed by the reactions of the damned; like the wind as it breathed between the summer leaves on the tops of trees or the fields of grass below -its presence only known to the observer through the rustling that followed or the aromas it brought.

Dropping back to a knee so he may peer through the more slender, bottom half of moving torsos,' Aramis quickly pulled a hidden dagger out from his boot and flung it through the narrow channel to bury into the spine of an assailant -and felling him before Athos could notice his back had been vulnerable to the silent attacker.

Athos caught a brief flash of Aramis' smile before he blended back into the chaos; leaning to and froe around the men as he sought out his brothers back and sighed. He would have to go hunt down his mischievous brother before his arrogance got him killed.

And so Athos turned back to the vermin surrounding him and began dicing away, heading for Aramis, supposedly. .

Meanwhile, back in the fray, the poetic warrior continued in his dance -up until he tired with the flamboyant twirls and settled into a more even: thrust-stab-move on kind of rut; the muscles in his arms beginning to beg for rest but receiving none.

This physical denial proved to be an almost fatal error in judgement for Aramis as his fingers became stiff and lost grip of his weapons when an attacker suddenly shoved into his back and knocked him forwards onto his stomach.

Highly aware of this vulnerable position, Aramis immediately rolled through the dirt and hay towards 'safety;' knowing the best precautionary measure was to 'never stay still.'

The quick thinking paid off as an axe swung down and buried itself into the dirt where Aramis had landed a second ago.

Now on his back with a man bent over by his right side -trying to pry the axe out of the ground- Aramis rolled onto his right and flung his left leg into the mans chest and knocked him to the floor -his fingers leaving the axe half buried.

Not waiting for the man to recover from the blow, Aramis crawled over to the man and landed a vicious right to his jaw -sending him senseless just as he delivered a downwards elbow to the nose, finishing him.

Aramis had no qualms with taking advantage of these men. _All of them had earned the sentence of death when they__'__d stormed into here, seeking the blood of his brothers and trying to take his own head off his shoulders many a time_. He would still sleep well at night after this was over.

Crouching back on his heels and standing up, Aramis abruptly came to face a man coming at him already.

Panting slightly, Aramis thought to dive for his dropped sword.

But the man had been quick and before Aramis could close his stiff fingers around the hilt of his weapon, the attacker barrelled into his side.

Only just managing to keep his footing as Aramis leant into the man, he took a second to right himself before attempting to step back to deliver a strong enough blow.

But the man advanced and left no open room for assault; his fist raised and holding a crudely made knife of flint thus forcing Aramis to abandon his useless sword as he raised his hand to hold and block the mans' arm and the thrust of his deadly knife.

With a second hand, Aramis punched the man in the face, causing the assailant to stumble back just as another attacker swung back his own blade and mistakenly lodged it into the stumbling mans neck.

Both men stuck together in their new position for a brief moment until, finally, Aramis' man crumpled to the floor and dragged the sword with him -turning the second attacker around to receive the stock of his arquebus to the face.

Aramis turned back to his fallen sword, scanning for a better challenge when yet another man stumbled into his back -this time painfully jarring his healing shoulder as he fell forwards; gun falling from his grasp as fire lanced down his arm and numbed his fingers with a tingling sensation.

Before he could move back over to his weapons the man kicked Aramis over onto his back; making sure to aim for the shoulder that had caused the musketeer to cry out in pain.

Now sitting there numbly, a slightly dazed expression on his face as he sought to suppress and control his pain, Aramis hardly took in the man who now loomed over him, grinning wickedly as he patiently waited for the musketeer to regain his senses -so he could see the horror in his eyes when he killed him.

And so, when Aramis' mind slowly focused back to his current predicament his blood ran cold.

_He was unarmed and too far away to fling himself forth before he was shot__…__unless__…__his hat! _

Aramis ripped his hat from his head and flung it into the mans face to blind him, stumbling to unsteady feet as the foe caught it dumbly and lowered it from his eyes just in time to witness a musketeer sailing through the air towards him to grab him by the shoulders and throw them both back to the ground, the musketeer now on top.

But the man made quick work with a single knee to his enemies gut and easily rolled the winded musketeer back off and onto the dirt; kicking him onto his back with a sneer as he struggled back to his feet.

_This was what happened when you over exerted yourself__…__your body slowed to the point of clumsy uncoordinated movements and your judgement reduced until eventually you could fight no more. _He _was the medic, he _knew _this. So why hadn't he followed his own advise?_

Aramis knew he had pushed himself a little too far, much too soon…_but he could hardly sit around doing nothing! _

Aramis smiled absently as that particular line pleasantly reminded him of a certain younger brother.

Unable to find the strength to combat the man further, Aramis remained spread eagled on the floor completely exhausted from the battle and now content to stare up at the bright, blue sky above him -trying to ignore the vile creature that lurked in his periphery; smiling at him as he raised a pistol.

_Perhaps he deserved this__…__He would die in battle by his brothers side after all. They had all foreseen this inevitable end__…__maybe he was just supposed to lead the way? _

Aramis let out a deep sigh and focused on the only cloud in the sky, mind wandering away from the scene of the battle as he made peace with himself and waited for death.

There was a slight snicker and the final 'click' of a pistol. Aramis closed his eyes and blew out another gentle breath.

The noise of a sword clashing against an object abruptly ripped through the calming silence of Aramis' world and teased him to open his eyes fast enough to witness a pistol hurling away from his attackers hands -of which now only three fingers remained attached to.

The man stepped back in shock; horror on his face as he stared at the bloodied stumps, a cough escaping his throat as another blade sank into his jugular and he fell to the floor.

Athos promptly swooped down and into Aramis vision; dragging him up slightly from the floor and glaring down at his dumbstruck brother now teetering on his knees.

"What were you doing!?" Athos hissed, eyes wild with anger and worry. He had only just managed to get here in time and save his brother from certain death. Aramis looked up mutely, still in shock.

"Don't you _dare _tell me you were giving up, Aramis" Athos growled, fisting his gloves into Aramis' collar and bringing him roughly to his feet, face inches apart.

"I thought… perhaps it was meant to be…" Aramis whispered brokenly, distant eyes now locking onto his older brothers, watering slightly with the emotion of it all.

Athos shook his head angrily in response, "You can't give up now, Aramis! Think about all you have to live for! Your brothers, Anne, your _son!_…_You, _my dear friend_, _are not allowed to give up" Athos chided, voice softening as he hugged his brother close before leaning back to watch the reaction of his words sink into his comrades thick skull.

Aramis now had tears shining clearly in his eyes as he came back to the world of the living, now shaking his head and looking away in shame.

"I -I'm sorry, Athos… I don't know what came over me" Aramis grumbled brokenly, breath hiccupping slightly as his voice became thick as he struggled not to lose it.

Athos quickly shrugged off his own emotions and nudged his brothers chin up to share a heartfelt gaze of understanding -wanting to continue with this moment, but at the same time, not wanting to say any more as the battle claimed more brothers.

_They would have to rekindle this conversation at a later date _Athos noted_._

"It's alright -just- get back to doing what you do best" Athos encouraged softly; warm smile forming on his lips as he gripped Aramis' shoulders lightly.

Aramis nodded once and set about composing himself; his manner becoming more sturdy with each step he took until soon he was back off on his killing rampage.

Mind cleared of his piteous thought, Aramis now saw red thanks to Athos' motivational speech; a hidden paternal strength rising within him to temporarily restore his skill and accuracy -and drive him to protect his newborn son- his mind aflame with the thoughts of his child lying at the mercy of these _creatures_.

_He would not rest until they were all dead. They could not win. They could not take over Paris -and reach his son. _Aramis wouldn't let them.

Athos smiled at the short work Aramis was dishing out and headed back into the battle; glancing up to share a light smile with Porthos as he went and chuckling at the roar that sounded from the rooftops when his brother cast the final archers' corpse over the edge.

_His brothers still had fight in them yet, and that was all they needed_, Athos smiled.

_There was still hope yet._

**Yay! So that's the middle section done. I didn't/couldn't split that to make it smaller or else we'd have a four part battle on our hands -and I wanted to avoid that at all costs! I hope you're eyes didn't get tired or lost reading it! Leave a review and let me know! Until next time!**


	35. A Means to an End

**Sorry for the wait! I had to prioritize over real life -so I was forced to put this aside for a day and then write/edit it yesterday before publishing it now. It was 26 pages…im sure you're able to predict by this point what that means I did to it ;) **

**I am pretty swamped with work so I doubt I will be able to follow with the end-end right away. I hope you can forgive me for that.**

**Aaaanyways, Enjoy!**

Hobbling along as quickly as he could, D'artagnan pressed himself up against a post and unlocked the wooden door to a horse stall, whistling loudly as he did so to call forth the animal.

Ever the frustratingly stubborn nag, Aramis' horse took to a high pitched whiny and backed up from the door _instead _of moving forwards, as it had been commanded.

Sighing, D'artagnan took pity on the beast for once.

_It could no doubt hear, see and smell the battle raging on out there a heck of a lot better than he could. And it had frightened her._

"Shhh shhh, its okay girl. It's me, D'artagnan" D'artagnan whispered soothingly, shuffling into the stall weakly and rubbing at her bobbing nose to hold it still before scratching behind her ears as he'd seen his older brother do.

Almost immediately the mare subsided in her snorting whines and bowed her head for a better scratch; nudging her masters' friend affectionately as she took in his scent and relaxed at the possibility of apples the boy was always so generous to donate.

"Now come on, we've gotta get you out of here" D'artagnan mumbled, holding the mares face to his shoulder as he turned back to the door and tugged her forwards gently.

But the mare dug in her hooves and shied out of his embrace, raising its large head and snorting loudly in protest; footing around the inside of the stall to back up from D'artagnan once again as it spotted fire.

Sighing in annoyance, D'artagnan pointed an accusing finger.

"_Fine_. You can go last while I get your brothers and sisters out of here. But you _will _obey me!" D'artagnan told the mare, giving her a hard stare as he placed a hand against his aching stomach and shuffled out of the stall to free the other horses.

Of course all but Aramis' horse was more than willing to vacate their smokey residence; greeting D'artagnan with nickering happiness and sounds of relief before trotting out of their stalls and drifting a far way from the stables -around the outskirts of the battle in one large stampede over towards the archway, where safety lay.

"Right. _Your _turn" D'artagnan declared, stepping back up to Aramis' mare as he strapped a bridal onto her face and a bit into her mouth.

_He wouldn__'__t be able to shove her bulk -but he could pull her by the reigns! Not many a horse could ignore a jostling bit in their mouth -and Aramis__'__ touchy nag would be no different._

Ears pricking up suddenly on high alert, the mare let out a high pitched squeal and nervously stomped at the floor.

As much as D'artagnan wanted to put the behaviour down to insistent stubbornness, he saw something akin to fear in her dark black orbs. _Fear wasn't entirely unfounded in such a situation…but pure terror was._

D'artagnan quickly twisted around to greet whatever dreadful sight the nag had seen and slipped.

If it had not been for the hay taking his foot out from under him to drop him to the floor, D'artagnans' face would have met the full force of a plank fitted with rusty nails -and that certainly wouldn't have been pretty.

From the floor, D'artagnan let out a gasp of surprise and hastily back-pedalled away from the smiling man and through the hay, towards the back of the stall.

_How long had he been there!? Why hadn't he seen him sooner? How was he going to fight off this new assailant?_

D'artagnan stumbled back up to his feet and ran a hand along the mares flank, trying to keep himself upright as he continued to step back as the man entered; patting his weapon lightly in his free hand.

_He looked like he was going to enjoy this._

The mare whined loudly again and reared dangerously onto its back legs while its front hooves pawed at the air.

Suddenly D'artagnan had an idea.

When the mare had dropped her front legs back down to the ground, D'artagnan quickly skirted around her back end -slowly this time, so as to draw the enemy into position as he safely backed around her other side.

No doubt thinking this was the boys' cowardly retreat, the man followed in his wake; coming level with the mares back legs just as D'artagnan forced her to take a step back.

Frightened to have felt the sharp end of a swinging nail passing by her backside, the mare lashed out instinctively with her back legs -the force of her kick catching the stalker in the ribs and send him straight through the wooden wall to land on the other side. Killing him instantly, if he was not dead already.

_Not many a man ever lived to tell the tale about the time they__'__d received a kick from a horse and walked away from it…he would know, he'd been through such a hellish ordeal once in his youth. He was lucky to still be standing today._

D'artagnan sighed in relief and patted the mares neck appreciatively, scratching at her ears once to comfort her before he moved back out in front of the stall and coaxing her to follow with the tug of the reigns.

Thankfully, the nag obeyed -even following him out from the stables this time without hesitation.

"That's it, easy does it girl" D'artagnan soothed as she shied at the blood, placing his feet cautiously over the increasing pile of corpses and leading her to a relatively open 'path' she could walk on.

"Now, git!" D'artagnan ordered with a harsh slap to the her rump; smiling as the mare took off with a surprised jolt and raced over to the archway -mowing down any unfortunate attackers who happened to be in her path.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, D'artagnan made his way back towards the fray of men; tripping assailants or throwing objects at them -his efforts meant to distract them from the fight long enough for his fellow brother to inflict lethal damage.

As the youngest brother continued on his journey he made sure to load himself with any idle weapons laying about the place -whether they were strapped onto corpses or live attackers he stole them all; even daring to swipe pistols up from the flames before they discharged under the pressure.

_He might be in need of them later. One could never be too _prepared D'artagnan acknowledged grimly; thinking of his mentors wise words even as he sought him out from the crowd.

Moments later, a strange combination of pride and fear swelled in D'artagnans' chest as he caught sight of Athos sparring with a new, madly grinning assailant -his moves telling of both his skill and fatigue with their semi gracious arcs.

Stepping forth as if to help, D'artagnans path was abruptly cut off by a pair of duelling adversaries -who brought with them their comrades; each man striking down with a quick succession of vicious glancing blows.

_No! I need to pass! I must reach Athos!_

…_But I couldn__'__t afford to get involved! …I might not like it, but I'm still too weak to hold my own against an opponent. It's taking everything I have just to stay upright and carry these weapons__…_

_But I need to get to Athos! How am I supposed to get to Athos if I can__'__t risk endangering myself by stepping into the fray?_

D'artagnan was sorely tempted yet again to simply 'go for it' and ignore the wise words of his elder brother.

But he didn't.

If he was struck down or killed out there, he'd only be hurting the efforts of his brothers and causing them more pain and grief.

_No, there must be another way._

As D'artagnan paused in his trek to mull it over he felt a sudden tug at his sleeve -his knees almost buckling at the surprising contact as his heart slammed up into his throat.

Whirling around, dagger clutched in his fist, D'artagnan came within inches of slicing into Miriams bosom -the final second of recognition saving her life as he dropped the dagger to the floor before he could embed it in her flesh.

Panting harshly under the strain of it all -both mentally and physically- D'artagnan gripped Miriam by the shoulders and shook her forcefully.

"What are you _doing _out here!?" D'artagnan demanded from her in a harsh yell; both worry and astonishment splaying across his tired features as he fretted over her safety.

"I -I thought I could be of some help!" Miriam called back over the loud din of swords and screams; leaning into D'artagnan to look up into his face, green eyes pleading.

"_No! _Definitely not! Now, get back inside where its safe -before someone sees you!" D'artagnan hissed, starting to shove her away gently with a disbelieving shake of his head.

But Miriam held her footing and protested his urges, "You're wrong! It's no safer in there than it is out here!" she informed him, ripping his hands off her arms.

"-Some men got into the quarters where we were staying-" Miriam confessed, placing a comforting hand on D'artagnans arm as his eyes bulged at the news.

"-It's alright! Serge and I managed to take care of them -but we can't afford to sit still like that again… We narrowly escaped with our lives as it was…" she muttered, scuffing the floor when she could no longer hold D'artagnans fierce gaze.

As Miriam cast her eyes away D'artagnan let out a tired sigh; his mind telling him what he _needed _do while his heart told him what he _should _do.

He allowed himself a small smile as he made the split second decision; forcing Miriams to meet his eyes once more.

_She looked as stubborn as Athos and about as sick as he felt._

"I'm glad you're alright…but I don't have time to argue this further with you" D'artagnan stated, glancing back to Athos desperately to catch a glimpse of his brother as he continued to trade blows with his attacker.

"-So I guess you'll just have to accompany me" D'artagnan murmured, turning back to a beaming Miriam and resting a soft hand on her shoulder; warmth pooling in his gut as she thanked him over and over as she offered him some tools to use as weapons from her dress pockets.

D'artagnan didn't notice her gifts as he refocused his mind back on reaching Athos.

_He could keep Miriam safer if she was with the two of them rather than his sole protection. He was too weak to be of much help as it was... But Athos would know what to do__…__ he just had to get to the man first._

Turning back to his brother, D'artagnan suddenly noticed that Athos was staring straight at him; his frame appearing stiff as his paling face took on an expression of horror as he slid his eyes over his opponents' shoulder and spotted Miriam by his side.

His brothers momentary fixation -and lapse in judgement- cost him his ground and D'artagnan suffered the anguish of helplessly witnessing Athos getting struck across the face with the steel, pommel end of his attackers' cutlass; sending him to the floor and out of sight.

Bolting forwards, all thoughts of caution thrown to the wind, D'artagnan made to beat the living daylights out of Athos' attacker.

_He had to save his brother! Had to get over there now! Poor judgement be damned, he wasn__'__t going to wait another second!_

But Miriam held him back with a hand on his arm.

"You can't just go charging in there! You'd get killed! There's no way to reach him in time" Miriam cried desperately; heart breaking over the concern for her loved one but not so inconsiderate as to allow this young man to throw his own life away.

Glaring back at Miriam, D'artagnan made to rip his arm loose when his eyes drifted over to a bench and an idea sparked in his creative mind.

_It might just work__…__time was of the essence._

Rushing over to the bench in the opposite direction -and ignoring the questioning glances Miriam was sending him, D'artagnan aimed a harsh kick at the end of the wooden beamed seat and tore it from the nails that held it down.

"Quick, roll over that barrel" D'artagnan ordered, as he pried up the nails on opposite side of the wooden plank -out of sheer determination and desperation, before hoisting the plank up.

Miriam struggled over to said barrel and tipped it over with minor difficulty; grunting in effort and pain as she rolled it back over to his side; curious look on her face as she watched him expectantly.

Now tipped on its side, D'artagnan placed the wooden plank over the top of the barrel -one end sticking up into the air while the opposite side met the ground.

"You said you wanted to help?… Hand me those tools you've got and help me scrounge for anything hard -loose weapons if you can find any- and horseshoes would be good too" D'artagnan instructed as he placed his own assortment of retrieved daggers, metal rods and lead balls onto the plank; held in place with a wrinkled old cloth that prevented them from rolling off.

Miriam nodded obediently, barely walking three feet away before picking up a hammer used for horseshoes and a further assortment of nails from the floor, glass shards from their smashed bottles, horseshoes hanging from beams, snapped arrow tips from broken arrows and so on.

As she passed them along, D'artagnan paced over a ways to pick up an unbroken bottle of wine -that had been left untouched having fallen in the hay by the table- no doubt about its original use for pouring drinks at breakfast.

Smashing the bottle of wine over the collection of lethal looking weapons, D'artagnan fumbled in his belt until he pulled out a small packet of gunpowder and promptly poured it over the wine.

Only seconds had passed since he'd last seen Athos disappear but D'artagnan had wizened enough to know that many things could occur in a matter of seconds.

"Here! Use this!" Miriam called, thrusting a flaming arrow towards D'artagnan in such a manner that he could hold the burning stick without burning his own fingers.

"Thanks" D'artagnan smiled, throwing the flame down onto the concoction which roared with flame the instant they touched.

"Now, just -help -me- turn-this" D'artagnan grunted, eyeing the mans back and attempting to shift the raised part of the heavy plank accordingly.

When he was satisfied he held an arm in front of Miriam and pushed her back.

"Stand clear...and no sudden movements" D'artagnan directed. Miriam nodded mutely and stepped back; the serious look on her face contrasted by the curious eyes of a child, wondering what he was about to do.

~o0o~

Flashback: mere seconds ago

Only minutes had passed but to Athos it had felt like he'd been battling this particular man for a lifetime, skilled as he was, the blasted man was proving to be a tricky combatant -and a pain in his side, literally.

The way he moved was graceful -as if he'd had years of experience- his never drooping grin turning Athos' stomach as he felt dark vibes radiating from his dangerously.

_It was as if the man had tried the flesh of humans and liked the taste__…__at least that__'__s what this detached demeanour and, menacing grin said about him._

Athos had shivered at the thought but quickly dismissed it; ducking under a narrow swing of the mans cutlass and barely balancing back on his feet before he had to jump aside to avoid a flying dagger.

Glaring up at the man didn't seem to be all that tempting either -as Athos was met with on sightless, milky blue eye while the other black bead shone back at him demonically.

Redirecting yet another blow with an increasingly sluggish arm, Athos cursed when his assailant leant in and shoved him back towards a wall, causing him to trip and stumble over the arm of a corpse.

Fighting back just as desperately, if not more so -since the man seemed to be playing with him at this point- Athos dived in with another lunge; his precise timing earning him a nice little gash across the mans chest and slicing off a button or two before a thin line of blood appeared.

As the man stumbled back this time, Athos took a second to survey his immediate surroundings for threats -and Porter.

_He still needed to find that man. He couldn__'__t be wasting his strength and energy here__…__he needed to kill him off quickly!_

Athos had tried to distract him the man with a number of witty insults, glares and barbs; hoping they would catch so he could get in a lucky blow when his emotions overruled his thoughtful actions.

But there had been no such 'luck' -_as usual._

The man had remained silent in this fight -eerily so. Suddenly the man flew back to Athos with renewed vigour; managing to get in a few blows here and there as the musketeer weakened.

Athos took them in; allowing the hits to back him up near a wall where no one could attack from behind. _He couldn__'__t handle two men right now- that would surely be a death sentence._

Athos clashed his sword against the man as he sprang back, pushing his blade to point outwards against his own and away from his vital organs -hoping to dislodge it from his hand until the man crushed those wishes and swept back in with a dagger.

Athos blocked the dagger with his own, this new stance of both arms of both men straining for the upper hand-quite literally- in an effort to twist the other mans wrists until he dropped his weapons.

Thinking on his feet, Athos spat into the mans face.

_There was no sense in fighting fair against these foes -and he would not make the same mistake twice._

The man blinked and backed up, disgusted, as Athos twisted his dagger to the floor before lunging forwards with his own sword -only just scratching the man with the tip of his blade as the attacker deftly leapt back again.

Frustrated by the level of skill, Athos' tactical mind began storming up new ways with which he could effectively disarm his opponent to get in his final kill blow.

But his keen eyes had caught on a familiar sight in his periphery, just over the mans shoulder. As he focused his sights, Athos took in the pale dress, the dark locks of hair, the dainty, slender frame, stumbling walk and piercing green eyes.

_MIRIAM!? _

_No! It couldn__'__t be! Why was she wandering around out here!? He had told her it was not safe! …That much was obvious -but then where was D__'__artagn-_

Athos spotted D'artagnan staring back at him with wide eyes; his slightly pale and haggard appearance put aside by the flame of determination befitting his gaze.

_That boy never did listen -fully._

_But what was D__'__artagnan doing out here with Miriam!? Surely, the lad had told her to remain hidden? _

Athos dearly hoped his brother would escort her elsewhere…_he didn__'__t have the time to do it himself -for if he had, she__'__d been strapped down to that bed -and the door to the room would be barricaded with nails …and whatever else he could get his hands on!_

For a split second, Athos' eyes roamed back to Miriam; her eyes drifting towards his but not quite making it there before a pain exploded against his face and he suddenly found himself lying dozily against the dirt, vision flickering as he took in a pair of boots and the tip of a sword.

His cheekbone felt as if it had been shattered with an ungodly blow and there was something warm trickling down his face. Athos rubbed at it absently with the back of his hand; his arm shaking under the strain as his head lolled about.

A pressure to his chest had Athos focusing back on a muddied boot and up into the smug face of the man who had taken him down.

"Any last words, musketeer?" the man sneered, his first words slamming Athos' pounding heart against his chest and closing up his throat as a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him at the familiar sentiment.

_NO! NOT AGAIN! This was not the end! It couldn__'__t be! This couldn't happen to him, twice!? _

_There was still Porter to kill!__…__He was still out there somewhere! It was his job! It couldn__'__t end here! He was not done on this earth yet! _

_-And Miriam! He couldn't leave her like this! _

_No, he had to fight!_

Athos struggled vainly against the boot, trying to regain his wits about him and free himself of the cotton confines that swarmed his senses and made his movements lethargic.

The man smiled down as the musketeer continued to squirm feebly under his boot; his blurry glares making him chuckle as the brother tried to raise a stolen pistol from his belt and only succeeded in aiming it somewhere high above his head.

_He would enjoy killing this particular foe__…__he__'__d never quite met an opponent like him. _

_Maybe if he__'__d been in a better condition when they__'__d initiated the fight, he might__'__ve had a bit more fun with him._

Suddenly a hoarse, angry voice rang out over the battle; calling out for the coward who stood over a man, preparing to _murder _without honour.

Stomach knotting in offence and frustration, Delacroix had the decency to turn ever so slowly away from the fallen musketeer and over to his accuser.

Picking out the young man standing twenty paces away, Delacroix noticed the slight shift in his movements as he dropped a large sac onto an upended plank with a smile on his face.

Delacroixs' eyes widened when he was met with the view of catapulted, flaming debris and took a fearful step back; mind frozen with the number of commands fighting to be heard at the same time in order to save his own skin.

It proved to be his downfall. _Literally_.

Delacroixs' body was violently pelted with the descending arc of oncoming flaming daggers, shards of glass, arrowheads, horseshoes, nails and so much more he hadn't the time to pick out of the air.

While the glass and nails burrowed their way into his body, the daggers hissed as they entered his flesh; cauterizing the wounds almost instantly and sealing them back up with the blades embedded.

But that hadn't helped -for his front had still suffered the consequences of opening up unnaturally at their intrusion- stunning his mind into silence as he rocked back on his feet and swayed forwards; a look of awe and astonishment searching the young mans face even as blood bubbled out from between his lips.

Abruptly, Delacroix fell forwards; face frozen in that same expression of shock as landed on the daggers glued to his sizzling flesh; sinking them further into his body and piercing his organs, _killing _him.

Panting at the bloody sight before him -and scrambling to his feet with a hand pressed to his bloodied cheek, Athos looked back over to D'artagnan and gave the boy a toothy smile, inclining his head as his brother returned an ecstatic beam.

_Little brothers were always a creatively resourceful bunch__…__and of course he__'__d gotten Miriam involved, somehow. Even though he__'__d specifically warned him not to, only hours before!_

Athos' rolled his eyes lightly and began to stumble over to them, blinking back some tears as a warm feeling rushed over his body at the sight of his friends, his _family _who had saved him_. _Watching over him, always_. _

_They'd had his back -even when times got rough and he thought he__'__d met his end, they were still there to save his sorry hide, pick him back up and dust him off. _Athos couldn't feel more proud or more loved in this moment.

A niggling thought occurred to Athos then as Miriam waved over at him; glad to see he was on his feet but looking rather concerned at his worse for wear appearance.

_Oh, now I remember__…__ Miriam was standing amidst a battle!_

Sniffing lightly to compose himself, Athos checked his belt for weaponry and swung up his sword before stomping purposely over to the mischievous duo, intent on setting them straight.

_Porter could wait for a moment longer. He needed to make sure his family was safe first._

"Are you okay?" D'artagnan inquired as Athos came close enough to hear, resting a hand on his mentors shoulder and inspecting his beaten state with disapproval -despite his brother having shook his head and given him the 'I'm _completely _fine' look.

Mutely nodding his head in thanks, Athos cleared his throat before allowing his friendly vibes to fall flat on serious, hard stares -anger marring with concern that floated off him in waves.

Pointing an accusing finger towards Miriam and _almost _glaring at D'artagnan, Athos began with the most obvious question.

"Tell me, D'artagnan, what reason you could possibly have to set foot out here? -And under such circumstances -injured as you are while dragging MIRIAM with you?" Athos rapidly fired out; the question a rhetorical one despite D'artagnans apparent struggle to answer it.

"-_Really_, brother. I _do _appreciate the help, but you can't just go wandering off, half cocked out here! You'll get yourselves killed!" Athos cut in; fierce gaze scolding both of them while his voice wavered between anger, appreciation and understanding.

_He knew why they__'__d done what they__'__d done but it didn__'__t mean he could _accept _them risking their lives for him. Even if they__'__d succeeded, they were still at risk out here -and he__'__d be damned if he lead them further into danger. They needed to get out of here before something bad happened._

D'artagnan -who was now hanging his head guiltily- looked to the floor as he mumbled a brief apology to his mentor while Miriam seemed rather proud of her actions.

"Can't let you have all the fun" she cut in, teasingly; heart a-flutter as she leaned towards her lover subconsciously.

_Even in battle he looked magnificent -even if he was supposed to look scary and angry, he could hardly intimidate her any more than she could keep herself from him._

She did not want to leave his side so easily again. But his pleading gaze was all it took to break her heart and bend her will.

_After Porter had come along her life had been a living hell, mind drifting back to the face of her mother and father, her burning home, the destroyed memories, the ruined life__…__but then a handsome face appeared, eyes full of sincerity, of heart felt apologies, of promises to give her a better life, of love._

"D'artagnan, _please _don't do this again. I don't want to see you, or Miriam hurt out here. Get yourselves to safety" Athos begged, placing a soft hand on his brothers shoulder and tilting his chin up with the other.

Wide brown orbs meeting twinkling blues, the two brothers shared a moment of understanding, good luck and thanks, their bodies relaxing somewhat in the close space of each other, gathering strength from each others gaze.

"I promise I will" D'artagnan whispered, eyes shining as he accepted he would have to leave his brother to protect Miriam. _He would rather not abandon either__…__but one had a mission to fulfil, the other did not. _

D'artagnan could see purpose in the way Athos held himself -the set of his jaw, the scrunch of his brow, the tenseness in his shoulders, his shifting feet; exhausted but determined. _He could delay Athos no longer._

Turning away from the scene with Miriam in the nook of his arm, D'artagnan headed for the edge of the courtyard, intending to stay somewhere in the shadows beyond the battle -but not too far from home…in case-

"Athos" D'artagnan called suddenly; stopping in his tracks and turning his departing brother back into a tight embrace.

"Be careful" he whispered, mouth level with his brothers ear as he gripped the man all the tighter; doing his best to convey his desperate plea in the intimate hold.

_He couldn__'__t bare to lose his brother. The idea of leaving him alone was tearing him apart as it was._

He felt Athos push out against his own chest in a sigh as his older brother returned the affectionate hug with strong arms that wrapped around his lightly trembling form.

"I will" came the promise; confidence flowing from the quite words as their weight soothed over the youngest like a balm.

Breaking their huddle, Athos stepped back and placed a palm to D'artagnans' cheek.

"Don't worry, I shall be back before you know it" he assured; a small smirk added to his final words as he waited for a beat before turning and pacing back into the battle.

D'artagnan watched him go for a second before shuffling over to Miriam, took her by the arm and lead her away. Both frail forms trembling under the strain of it all; their footfalls reluctant and heavy as they stumbled away from their loved once, turning their backs on everything they knew.

_Sometimes life was hard. But then again, if life held no challenges to overcome, then it would hardly be worth living and you would never better yourself. Great things never came from comfort zones _D'artagnan acknowledged grimly, hobbling ahead still; not daring to look back.

And so they left Athos to his mission. Athos was a _great _warrior and respectable man, destined for greatness -and _this _was his moment to shine.

_He would rid the world of this dangerous threat, squash it before it spawned more hellish creatures, kill it off before some other poor soul suffered such an onslaught. Athos would prevail._

D'artagnan smiled lightly and continued on with his own mission.

~o0o~

As Athos headed through the thinning crowd, checking each face for Porter as he went, he took a small amount of relief in the fact that the enemy forces were finally failing and his brothers were beginning to even out the odds and take them down.

It was satisfying and rejuvenating. _There was hope yet._

Considering it was roughly twenty versus twenty, the men had split up into much smaller groups of five to five and sectioned off against smaller walls of fire.

This proved _very _helpful in Athos' search as on the very outskirts, he spied a man who stood out among the rest; his fancy attire free of blood, the perfect shine to his hair, the glint in his eyes, the smirk on his lips, the aloof way he held himself.

_Porter_.

Growling low in his throat as his vision tinted a hazy red, Athos twirling his prized cutlass enthusiastically at his side and quickened his pace, storming over towards the cowardly villain.

His normally calm demeanour fading into the background, Athos' expression quickly contorted into fury as an all consuming rage swept through his body; his nostrils flaring, eyes flashing and closing into icy slits, mouth twisted in hatred, veins turning to ice as his heart beat out of his chest and stole his breath away.

Every fibre of his being tingled with lethal intent, on edge with anticipation, actually excited for murder -both physically and mentally.

_This man had tried to kill his brothers, had almost killed Porthos, had killed numerous defenceless victims in his wake -according to D__'__artagnan, had ordered his two other brothers shot, had burned down the home of his lover, shot and killed her mother, murdered her father, brought ruin upon her, left her for dead after shooting her, shooting him._

Athos would rip him limb from limb -and he wouldn't stop this time, wouldn't make the same mistakes, wouldn't waste any more time. Even if he suffered a lethal blow, he would take off Porters' head with every ounce of strength his dying body possessed.

_Porter was a dead man walking._

**This was the halfway mark of 26 pages, so I cut it on this cliff hanger ;D **

**Please leave a review! I will update as soon as I possibly can!**


	36. Peace

**Thanks for the reviews! Here's the much awaited finale! I PROMISE THIS PART IS THE END OF THE BATTLE! **

**Enjoy! :D**

It was with this raging mentality that Athos approached the vile creature that was Porter; ready to rid the world of his filth and exact his revenge.

But his inattention to his surroundings -in particular, the littered ground- lead Athos to stumble suddenly, letting out an accidental yelp of surprise as he fell and alerting Porter to his once stealthy motions.

Giving up his focus on the entertaining battle, Porter paced five feet over to Athos' position and came to a stop only ten feet away -offering an amused smirk as he crossed his arms over his chest and tutted at his enemies' clumsy struggle to get to his feet.

"So, we meet again" Porter began cheerily, clapping his hands together as Athos finally righted himself before lowering an arm to rest his hand on the hilt of his over-glamorized, silver sword -should he need to suddenly defend himself from the musketeer.

Athos remained silent and seething at the statement; tightening a fist around hilt of his own sword as his heart continued to race while every nerve tingled; his mind alive with evil thoughts of how he would kill this smiling devil.

Porter chuckled, appearing nonchalant about the showdown -almost as if they were old friends.

"I must say, I do marvel at your death defying talents -and your seeming ability to evade my efforts to kill you at every turn" Porter stated honestly; scrubbing his chin in mockery of further contemplation while the gleeful, mad smirk remained on his face.

Athos smiled tightly, "It seems we are both prone to resurrection" he reported icily and recalling how this foe had meant to die from his wounds somewhere along the forest with him.

Porter tutted with a smile and a shake of his head.

"Ah, yes…couldn't have that, now could we? The world would be diminished without my divine, lording presence to rule over all the lowly peasants" he taunted.

Athos refused to take the bait; settling instead for an intense glare through his brows as he lowered his head menacingly and titled it to the side -eyeing up his adversary and roving over the assortment of polished weapons- all referring to their untouched use, and impractical balance.

_They were mere art pieces compared to real weapons. He doubted the pompous ass even knew how to wield them. _

_Hopefully they would break apart at a single blow -and they could resort to fists. That would be so much more pleasurable__…__too bad the man was a coward and more likely to run than fight in that scenario._

Athos smirked despite himself, hoping his attitude would unnerve his foe -or at least make him lose his temper first. _He__'__d been on the receiving end long enough._

To his luck, Athos was rewarded with a twinge of annoyance that leaked through Porters' expression; the turned down corners of his mouth and narrowed eyes giving him away.

_Good. I hope I bother you. I hope I chill you to the core, hope I'm on your mind when your chained to Satan's footstool down in hell _Athos mused as he slowed his breathing and drowned out the clashing around him; drowned out the whole world until nothing remained but the man in his sights.

It was then that Athos purposely began eyeing Porter like a lump of meat before a starving lion.

Porter turned to the musketeer abruptly, his mind having snagged on a delightful stream of thought that he was sure would rile up the man.

"I suppose that whore lived too then?… Couldn't leave this world without emptying her masters' pocketbook from the entirety of its treasures?" he quipped daringly; lilting his head to the side and nodding in retrospect.

_Hungry little wench__…__ It probably wasn__'__t true but if it dug into the musketeer, he would use it to torment him all the more._

Despite his attempts to remain calm, Athos felt the fire within him stoke the simmering coals back into raging embers at the pit of his stomach; eyes narrowing back into fierce, flinty blue slits as he gnashed his teeth together.

Porter smiled victoriously; relishing the moment of anguish he had caused the musketeer and excitedly awaiting the comeback.

"Alas no, Miriam is not a whore -but I _did _meet your mother in a similar predicament once!.. She was quite the charming little trollop too -which I bet explains where you stole your wit and acquired your flare for the outrageous garb" Athos retorted snidely; regarding Porters' superfluous attire once again with distaste -and alluding to its decidedly feminine -rather than dashing- appearance.

"Its unfortunate that your wolfish face also seeks to spoil your admirable attempts but then again, I suppose that 'feature' is to be expected when you're the son and heir of a mongrel bitch" Athos hypothesized, allowing Porter to catch the fleeting grin that cracked through his venomous expression and hoping it would infuriate the man all the more.

_Not so funny when you get a taste of your own medicine, is it? _Athos mused, flexing his fingers in anticipation.

Porters' eyes seemed to crackle with sparks of lightening as his expression turned thunderous and he took two steps closer; literally spitting his next words at Athos as he quickly redirected the conversation to better dominate in this battle of wits.

"Your _presence _here changes nothing! I have already won! In case you haven't noticed, _friend_, I have slaughtered _countless _brothers of yours, diminished musketeer forces, hurt your family -_and _stole your horse" Porter added provocatively; grinning at the fading air of satisfaction the musketeer radiated.

Athos plastered a light smirk to his face as he stepped closer -and within range of combat.

"That's not entirely true, my foolish colleague" Athos responded, bluntly; taking in the dwindling strength of Porters' men; the captain before him apparently oblivious to their ensuing downfall as he regarded their numbers rather than their progress.

"In case _you _haven't noticed, the victor of this battle favours _my _forces -in which my _brothers _fight gloriously in their _fit _states... It is _you _who has lost, Porter -and I shall personally see to it that you meet your end" Athos promised in a deadly whisper -the final straw settling onto the overburdened mind of his enemy and snapping him into a vengeful rage as he thrust himself into the fight.

After Porter had unsheathed his sword and let loose with a barrage of violent jabs at his injured side, Athos continued to twirl and glide about the enemy -blocking his final swing and then locking his blade through the trimmings of his cutlass before twisting his wrist.

The fancy manoeuvre had been a daring one, but it had paid off as Athos' caught sword suddenly wrenched the hilt from Porters' grasp -leaving him temporarily open for attack.

Easily flicking his sword at Porters' exposed shoulder, Athos happily opened up a nice long gash in the fancy fabric -and healing flesh underneath- the pained hiss and reflexively evasive jump back causing his stomach to knot with nervous excitement.

Glaring back at Athos' cold stare, Porter whipped a gilded dagger up from his belt, clutching at it forcefully before attempting another savage blow -this time aiming for Athos' neck with a mad glint in his eyes.

Athos rolled his body away from the blow and shoved Porter in the back as he sailed harmlessly past -tripping the man up and provoking a flush of embarrassment to his cheeks.

"Why are you so eager to end the dance here when we've only just begun?" Athos implored sarcastically; circling his enemy as Porter did the same and absently stroking at the bloodied gash he'd received as he eyed his man somewhat warily.

_This wasn__'__t fun any more. The musketeer seemed confident…almost too confident. As if he knew something that he didn't. Were his odds of success really that bad?!_

"You couldn't dance if your life depended on it" Porter hissed, "-which incidentally, it _does_" he growled; his threat only half heard by Athos as he'd charged his adversary in mid sentence -a sly attempt to catch the opponent off guard unlike most men who followed through with their words, _after _stating them.

But Athos had been ready. He'd been ready and waiting to redeem himself for this fight ever since they'd stayed at Alf's home. Athos didn't enjoy killing people in the line of duty, but in this case, he would.

Bowing in the middle as he leaning away from the thrusting dagger; to allow it a narrow miss past his ribcage, Athos followed through with the bent stance -butting his already lowered head forwards into Porter's face to deliver a rough headbutt; stomach tingling with something akin to joy as he heard a harsh crack and cry.

Not bothering to watch Porters' reaction in real time, Athos leaned back out as he raised a leg, kicking inwards at Porters' chest and knocking the blood splattered man to the ground.

However, as Athos advanced, Porter rolled to the side and leapt back onto his feet -dragging an unseen knife from some place on his body and lashing out at the musketeer; catching him in the crease of his knee and carving a deep groove in the flesh.

Cursing colourfully as he stumbled away in pain, Athos pressed a glove against the slice on his leg, regarding the severity of damage as minimal before quickly testing its strength and reliability with a light stretch and turning back to the fight.

_It would take a lot more than that to take him down. He was already up with a small hole in his side, a slide to the leg was hardly anything to whine about, until tomorrow perhaps__…__if there was a tomorrow._

Unable to sidestep as swiftly as his enemy, Porter received a quick success of cuts to his arms and legs as Athos played with his 'food.' He was furious that Porter had managed to draw blood from him and so he wouldn't be offering any more close calls if he could help it.

"What's the matter, getting tired already?" Athos quipped as he successfully dodged another one of Porter's feeble slices and responded by chopping his assailants dagger away in one fluidly placed fist to the underside of his elbow; effectively numbing his arm.

"_Bored_" Porter growled out the answer -his humorous nature having lost its witty edge as he shook out fatigued limbs and panted harshly; his broken and bloodied nose making struggled wheezing noises as he moved.

"I shall have to become more creative and entertaining for you in my efforts then" Athos replied in mock obedience, stepping back to roll his hand under a gentlemanly bow; eyes glinting with fire as a wicked smile froze upon his face like ice.

Hoping to beat the man to the punch, Porter managed to step inside Athos' oncoming sword and land a solid right to his already bruised jaw; the ringed knuckles opening up a large cut on the musketeers face and bringing a smile of accomplishment to his own.

"I find more entertainment in my own 'works of art'… if I do say so myself" Porter retorted as he impressively ducked under a second swing of Athos' fist as the musketeer momentarily lost track of his temper and ripped at the man.

Having stood back up after the knuckles had sailed harmlessly passed, Porter eagerly brought a second, tightly coiled fist up into the musketeers ribs and followed the motion with a snatch of his hair and the drag of his head to his rising knee.

The musketeer collapsed ungraciously on the ground when his face met that final blow; his rolling in their sockets -eyes unable to notice Porter circling around his form to collect his sword from opened fingers.

Lazily rolling himself onto his back in what seemed to be a reoccurring performance this day, Athos clumsily sat his body up and crawled to a standing position -his lolling head and flickering vision leading him to stutter about on his feet and observe three different grinning Porters' before him.

_I will not give in. _

_No matter how much this hurts, no matter what this man has done to him, to them, I will prevail! _

_If Porter chopped off my sword arm and stabbed me in the chest, I'd simply drag myself over there and strangle him to death instead. Nothing will stop me now -no matter how bleak it look._

Athos was never going to give up.

"Stings, doesn't it?" came a sarcastic mumble.

Athos shook his head and fumbled at his belt until he pried out a dagger to hold it firmly, continuing to blink furiously as he did his best to restore his vision.

Just making out the fuzzy form lunging at him, Athos pawed at the blackened fabric of a protruding limb, gripped it where flesh fingers met steel and expertly deflected the blades' direction with a minute turn.

Shooting a second fist out, Athos quickly chopped at what he assumed was Porters' throat and was relieved to hear a gasped choking sound before witnessing a descending glint of a sword in his periphery as the man ceased his attack.

Vision blurrily coming back into play, Athos rammed another solid punch upside Porters' temple and sent the fancy assailant straight to the ground, clutching at his collapsed windpipe as he went until he was laying prone on the ground, trying to heave in air.

Ironically enough, this particular role reversal reminded Porter of the first time he'd met the musketeer. He didn't dwell on it long…air was more of a primary concern.

Stumbling over to his sword and picking it up -as well as the sword of his enemy- Athos teetered back over to Porter who was now shakily trying to rise up to his feet but having only made it to his knees thus far.

Crossing his swords in the centre and placing their conjunction at Porters' throat, Athos glared down as the exhausted, bloodied and beaten man.

"Any last words?" Athos panted, dark soulless eyes biting into Porters' broken, anguished stare.

He could see no way out.

Slumping on his knees and dropping his arms limply to his sides, Porter let out a broken laugh as he tried to accept his fate; his bloodied smile, crooked face and ruffled hair completing the perfect picture for the musketeer.

"I'll see you in _hell_" Porter promised; knowing eyes shining with a detached but delighted look as he accepted he had lost this mortal battle. _There was always next time…in hell._

Athos nodded, lips quirking into an evil smile, "Duly noted, monsieur -but don't wait up, I'll be quite a while yet" came his dark reply -his waiting swords cutting into flesh of his foes neck slightly as he applied more pressure.

Porter inclined his head as best he could under the circumstances; his delirious state driving all anguished thoughts from his mind as he prepared himself for an eternity in hell…_Perhaps he could rule that realm instead? He was a born leader after all._

"Try not to miss me too much" Porter croaked, closing his eyes upon the world with a final smile.

"I won't" Athos promised -and with that, instantly drew both swords inwards to create a deep damning gash across Porters' throat, severing several arteries and opening up the damn of blood that lay within -allowing it to cascade down in thick streams and ruin his once beloved attire.

Porter tumbled to the floor, eyes glassy and body twitching fitfully as his lungs fought for air around the crimson fluid now filling his lungs.

Athos waited patiently by overhead, taking no small amount of satisfaction at watching this vermin exit the world in a tormented state; his screams for vengeance and fears for his family all silencing as Porter finally stilled.

"Good riddance" Athos muttered, kicking the corpse with the toe of his boot and turning back to the dwindling battle, no longer in the mood for a fight.

Trundling tiredly over to a lost musket straddling a pile of corpses, Athos picked up the loaded weapon hoisted the stock to rest against his hip and fired into the sky.

Considering the discharge of a musket had been the only deafening noise to have occurred for some time now -and was certainly much louder than the meagre noises of what was now a large squabbling fight between tired opponents in a courtyard- Athos' actions instantly froze the men of the yard and gained their rapt attention.

Propping the smoking musket over the back of his shoulder, Athos placed a gloved hand on his hip and strode closer to the waiting arc of men; clearing his throat quietly as his impassive stare and bloodied face sought to unnerve the battered faces of his enemies who stared back at him.

"You're leader has been slain" Athos called loudly, "Whatever _deal _he may have previously struck with you has now been rendered 'invalid'" he droned, slowly walking closer to the fidgeting forms and maintaining his eerily calm demeanour betrayed by the rigid form and icy undertones inflected in his voice.

"-So, I suggest you lay down your weapons and surrender -lest you choose to be slaughtered like mindless animals, without reason" Athos added, voice dripping with sarcasm as he glared menacingly at each beady eyed gaze.

It was obvious to both brothers and criminals alike that the soldier standing before them had no patience or mercy left in his being. And that made him dangerous.

"What will it be?" Athos demanded in an unnaturally soft voice, coming to a stop before a particularly blood splattered attacker and staring him down.

The man quickly lost his nerve as he felt the weight of the situation close in on him from all sides; suddenly aware of how the musketeers now _outnumbered _them instead -and had strategically played them all to fight collectively at a centre point thus encircling and trapping them.

Gulping, the man looked away, "I surrender" he choked out nervously, raising shaky gore stained hands and looking to the floor. Several other men instantly repeated the motion until finally all had been 'persuaded' to give in by some manner or another.

"Good" Athos ground out, eyeing the villainous force one last time before turning away and stalking off; appropriately masking his limp until he'd made it to his quarters and collapsed onto his bed.

_He didn__'__t know what to feel now. Pain? Relief? Joy for having won? Sadness for those brothers he__'__d lost? _

_Brothers! _Athos shot back up to his feet and paced back over to the door, twisting the door knob as his tired mind chanted guilty thoughts.

_How could he have forgotten!? He had left them in the battle to kill Porter. Hadn__'__t even sought to find them after they__'__d surrendered the rest! What was wrong with him!?_

Athos supposed it had something to do with fatigue -but that wasn't an acceptable reason.

_How dare he abandon them! How selfish! His only concern had been for another -a man who__'__s sole purpose was to die! How could he have gotten so caught up in his own personal vendetta that he'd pushed them aside!?_

Stumbling back down the stair case -his knees aching painfully and trying to give under each step- Athos quickly rounded the bottom of the steps and smashed straight into a massive wall of flesh.

"Heeeeey! Look who it is lads!" came the deep booming chortle; a familiar voice that held the power to inspire fear or sedate troubles.

_Porthos._

Athos allowed himself to be manhandled into a crushing hug, his face smushed into the collar of Porthos' leather jacket as he felt the arms of strangers encircling his back.

_No, not strangers. Family._

Athos leant into the hug as his stiff frame relaxed and his legs turned back into jelly.

_Why did his body always demand a seat when he was in the presence of his family? It was such a moment ruiner._

_An insistent moment ruiner._

Coughing to gain their attention, Athos peeled back from the warm jacket and eyed his surrounding family with warm smiles; his own beam transforming into more of a frown as he noted their bloodied, bruised and exhausted appearances.

"Are you all okay? Were any of you injured? Did you-" Athos began spewing out his concerns, patting at their arms and torsos to get a better judge of their status for his own eyes.

"Athos. Athos! We are all fine!" Aramis assured, complaints regarding the rough inspection with which he was treated hidden as Athos forced his arms up to inspect his ribs and accidentally jarred his injured shoulder, painfully.

He _was the medic here. _He _did the 'inspecting.' Not the other way around!_

Athos took a nervous step back, letting go on the hold of his brothers as his eyes drifted over to Miriam.

_It would be improper to feel her up and down -and looking at her in such a manner wasn__'__t an appropriate substitute either _Athos debated, conflicted in his approach.

Choosing to lean towards her instead, Athos clasped both of her hands gently into his as imploring his eyes met hers.

"Do not lie to me when I ask you of this, Miriam… Tell me honestly, are you okay?" Athos inquired; doing his best to find the truth in her gaze rather than letting his eyes roam anywhere south of her neck. He would be a gentleman about this.

He heard Aramis sigh in exasperation behind him as he promptly ignored his brothers previous statement of them being 'fine.' D'artagnan merely snorted, crossed his arms and wearily leant against the staircase as Porthos let out a good natured chuckle.

Miriam smiled up at him warmly and stole a hug as she stepped into his warm embrace and snaked her arms around his neck.

"I've never been better" she informed, leaning back from her lover as his hands lowered to her waist and pulled her tighter; her jaded eyes meeting his crystal blue gaze -a look of genuine relief taking hold of him before his face broke out into one of those rare but glorious smiles.

"Good" he whispered, lowering his face to hers and stealing a quick kiss.

An awkward cough sounded behind the couple and Athos reluctantly turned to meet the expectant gaze of his three brothers.

"Don't you have an appointment with a bath tub?" Athos droned, tone flat and eyes half lidded as his frustration grew.

_They were ruining his moment with Miriam__…__on purpose._

"Don't you want to talk about 'it' first?" Aramis questioned; voice quiet but serious -his gaze somewhat troubled as he thought back to their personal conversation back in the battle.

Lending the topic his full respect and attention, Athos shook his head, "No. It can wait until tomorrow" he informed the three, looking fondly back to Miriam.

"For now, we must celebrate" Athos added, grin coming to his features as the possibility of wine was now at hand.

"Uhm, about that" Miriam chirped up, looking guiltily up to Athos for reasons unknown to him.

"What is it?" he asked curiously, all eyes now training on the seemingly innocent woman.

"We -uh- that is, Serge and I…used all the wine…there's none left in stock" Miriam relented, looking to the floor.

Aramis and D'artagnan smiled at the confession while Porthos and Athos shared a look of despair.

"My, My! I didn't know you could drink so fast!" Aramis teased playfully; his suddenly humorous tones earning a surprised look from Miriam.

"If you'd have told me you were having a secret party in here this whole time, I'd have abandoned the fight and joined you myself!" he added, this time his jokes making her chuckle lightly.

Porthos rolled his eyes at his brothers charm and annoying witty remarks.

"Yeah, _you _might find it funny, brother, but _I _could really do with a drink right now!" he whined grumpily; stretching out the aches and pains of his bruised limbs as he followed the four back up to Athos' quarters -not entirely sure as to why they were bothering to head to an empty room with only one bed.

"Well if you're thirsty, there's always goat milk in stock" D'artagnan offered with a smirk as he planted a slap on Porthos' back and stepped into the room after a smiling Aramis.

"_Milk_!?" Porthos repeated; astonishment splayed across his face as he wrinkled his nose in distaste and plopped himself down in the only chair just as Athos sat Miriam down on his bed and headed for the dresser.

Propping himself up by the window ledge and resting his back against the window panes, D'artagnan continued to mock his older brother with a cheeky grin as he stood dumb struck before him.

"Yeah, you know, milk. It's like water -but white and its got a sort of sour taste to it" the youngest supplied, sweeping his hand out as if to envision fields of milk.

"-and if you leave it out, it can turn into cheese!" Aramis added helpfully, sliding down the wall by D'artagnans' side to take a seat on the floor and place his battered hat upon a raised knee.

"I _know _what milk is!" Porthos retorted angrily, propping his dirty boots up on the bed -until he caught the foul gaze from its owner, Athos and rapidly dropped them back to the floor with a thud.

"Sorry" he added sheepishly -Miriam smiling at his contradictory nature of: hurricane and gentle giant; her expression warming his own features when he spotted her pleasant gaze.

"Hey, what've you got there?" D'artagnan questioned Athos curiously, stepping away from the sill so he could peer at the sooty object in his brothers hands after he'd took a seat on the bed; still covered in grime -but allowed to dirty his own sheets.

"Wine" Athos admitted simply, smirking smugly at the number of bewildered eyes that sceptically regarded the small wooden box in his hands.

Blowing the dust of its lid, Athos somehow produced a metal key as if by magic and inserted it into the slot on the front; twisting it and prying the lid back.

Five sets of eyes peered in, a mixture of chuckles, snorts and smiles letting loose within seconds of spying the contents.

Inside lay an exquisitely designed, thick, stocky bottle; its ruby colour hinting at the generous wine it contained beneath the trimmed label.

"I've been saving this up for a special occasion" Athos confessed, gently removing the glass bottle from its silky pillow and uncorking the top to give it a quick whiff -his eyes watering from the strength of the concoction before taking a daring sip and holding back his cough.

"It has aged quite nicely" Athos croaked out, passing the bottle off to Miriam quickly to divert their attention as he blinked his eyes rapidly to hide his choked tears.

Porthos smirked at Athos as he noticed the comical 'I'm-so-stealthy-they'll-never-expect-the-power-of-the-bottle' reaction and thus hypothesized Miriams' reaction to be a lot less restrained than his alcoholic of a brother.

As she took a sip, Porthos thought to give her an encouraging remark -though admittedly, in hindsight, he should have thought about its implications.

"That'll put some hair on your chest!" he chuckled, his brothers eyes instantly meeting his own in question with varying degrees of revolt on their faces at having a hairy-chested woman 'on their hands.'

They'd heard about bearded women and frankly, that was enough of a scare.

Miriam let the bottle drop back from her lips and took a fiery swallow; schooling her features expertly as she worked on regaining a steady voice before she next spoke -stalling even more by passing the bottle on to Porthos who was now looking highly embarrassed -for her sake.

He nodded his thanks and took a healthy swig before turning his head desperately and spraying it all back out in shock.

"You fool!" Aramis roared after a pause; flicking his wrists to shed the wine droplets from his fingers before swiping at his ruined jacket.

Although it had most likely been ruined from the blood stains from battle and the gashes it had received from numerous blades, there was no coming back from wine stains.

Rising to his feet tiredly, Aramis dived at Porthos who in turn chucked the opened bottle over to D'artagnan at the last moment before the duo collided and the chair rocked back -throwing them both to the floor.

As the bottle sailed overhead some of its precious liquid managed to escape across the floor, Athos called out angrily and rose slowly to his feet -catching it out of mid air while his two brothers continued to tussle on the floor.

"Hey! I want a sip!" D'artagnan complained, outstretched arms now falling back to his sides as he shuffled over in front of Athos who took another swig.

"Maybe later" Athos grunted, handing it back over to Miriam who took a second swig; seeming to enjoy the powerful ruby residue.

"There wont be anything left _later_! You _two _are both raging alcoholics!" D'artagnan accused bluntly; frustration quickly crossing his features as Athos took back the bottle and took a third sip.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say raging" Miriam butted in with a hoarse voice; wiping at her stained smile with the back of her hand.

D'artagnan spun on his heel, arms raised above his head in defeat as he paced towards the fallen chair, propped it back upright and slid it away from the tangle of squirming legs and wildly kicking feet -so he wouldn't be knocked down when he sat; intending to resign himself to this new entertainment.

Athos and Miriam seemed content with this idea and for a while, they all enjoyed the entertainment of Aramis and Porthos tussling and pulling at each others hair -that was until they lay panting on the floor, flailing weakly and whining in their exhausted states,

And that was how the small band of brothers -plus one 'not so innocent woman'- passed the rest of the day; in fits of squabbles, giggles, drinking and card games -all of which 'magically' appeared from either Athos' bottomless wardrobe of Porthos' sleeves.

As the rest of the regiment went on about restoring the garrison courtyard, putting out fires, cleaning up corpses and escorting prisoners, the fussy five worked on getting themselves more 'hammered' as Porthos had put it.

The brothers didn't feel _entirely _guilty for their comrades, for as Athos had put it, they were 'merely postponing this belligerent state until some time later. So why wait?'

That was all the reasoning they'd needed.

And so, many hours later the floored fives' addled leader suggested they all stay the night in his quarters. They could use a mixture of quilts, linens and spare bedding from the quarters below to assemble their sleeping arrangements for the night, 'it would be no trouble.'

All were quick to agree as it meant staying by each others sides for as long as possible; an enticing notion having just suffered such a harrowing ordeal of being spread thin and torn apart these past few days.

Settling down came fairly easy in the temporary lodgings, as the dark, familiar walls seemed much more soothing than their own shadowed rooms -mostly due in part of the family members that surrounded each occupant from every angle.

Of course, this disorganized sleeping arrangement meant that Miriam got the entire bed while the boys slept on the floor -despite her kind, insisting nature. She'd been too drunk to argue her case much longer and fallen asleep shortly afterwards to Athos' amusement.

With yawns all around, the brothers bid their goodnights and began slipping off into worlds of their own -hopefully lit with fresh tales of happy dreams and fond memories.

Five minutes of blissful, silent peace passed by before Athos found his thoughts interrupted.

"I'd say that's a pretty good day" D'artagnan whispered over in a tired mumble; trying keeping his voice low over the light snoring now possessing the room.

Athos picked his head up from his folded doublet -otherwise known as 'the makeshift pillow'- to eye the bundle of sheets at his foot where he believed his youngest brother to lie in the half light of the moon.

"Indeed" Athos murmured with a slight slur, offering a smile to the darkness before dropping his head back to his 'pillow' and gaze blearily up at the peacefully sleeping form of Miriam in the bed above; smiling again as he noticed she was drooling on his blankets.

"Hey, Athos?" came the quite voice again, disturbing the man from his wandering thoughts as his foot felt the tap of a light nudge in the darkness.

"Mmmm?" he sighed, yawning quietly as his eyelids drooped and he stared back to the ceiling.

"Thank you" came the random but heart felt statement.

Athos furrowed his brow in confusion and decided it best to act on his curiosity lest this conversation be forgotten or fester into something more.

"For what?" he mumbled.

"For being -careful…for coming back" D'artagnan replied; the small but sincere voice dying down to an almost silent whisper.

But Athos had heard it and his chest hummed with a mixture of deep emotions, his brown furrowing all the more.

"I _told _you I would come back, D'artagnan" Athos reminded the youngest; concern niggling at his addled mind regarding the boys surprising doubts -and apparent trust issues.

"I know…and I'm glad... Just -don't leave again, please" came the quite plea.

Athos sighed and sat up in his makeshift bed; swivelling on the floor until he was lying down facing the opposite direction, his head now level with his D'artagnans'.

"I promise" Athos whispered, raising an arm to stroke the boys' hair comfortingly with a hand -noting with a pained pang of his heart how D'artagnans' eyes shined through the darkness at him with raw emotion.

Athos levelled him with a sincere, friendly, 'big brother' look; patting his shoulder after a beat, hoping to reassure his friend and keep those darker thoughts at bay.

_He would never abandon D'artagnan. The lad should know this by now._

D'artagnan smiled lightly, seeming to accept his brothers' statement and slowly closed his eyes -drifting off into slumber as Athos tucked the sheets up about his neck and lay back down to closing his own eyes and think of better times.

As Athos' tired mind and body began to drift off in their numbed and addled state he found peace in the warm atmosphere of the room; a light of hope rekindling in this place of darkness as he lay among his family.

_They were all safe now. He had no reason to leave them again. And he didn__'__t want to. This was his family and this was his home._

Athos let out a deep breath as his frayed nerves finally singed themselves back together and his trepidation for the dawn to come ebbed away.

Athos rolled over onto his side and pulled the sheet closer to his own body, a faint smile to his lips as he resigned himself to a long, well earned, peaceful sleep.

~o0o~

**And there you go! I Hope you liked it -and found satisfying closure in it after such a long story arc of waiting haha ;D**

**Did you notice any similar sounding quotes in here? If you did, it's because I twisted quite a few sentences in here from the show too for the Porter vs. Athos ****'****battle of wits****'**** used from milady and athos tee hee! I also went scouring Shakespearean insults and yo mama jokes for inspiration to mix with my creativity in here. Ultimately I had to resort to my own creativity and brainstormed relentlessly for an hour to dredge up Athos****'**** burning comeback as nothing else fit quite right. (So I'm proud of my little dark brain hahaha)**

**Aaaaanyways, sad to say there****'****s only one chapter left -but its been a BLAST writing for you guys! I loved every step of the way and im glad you have too :D **

**Please let me know what you thought of it with a review! Until next time!**


	37. Melon-cholly Buisness

**Sooo sorry for the long wait! That was my busiest week of the entire semester that just passed, so now im back! Here's a big ending in thanks for your patience -and ongoing support! **

**Thanks once again for all the awesome reviews and faves! Enjoy!**

"Ughhhh…how do you stand this Athos?" D'artagnan groaned, placing a hand to his forehead as he cautiously titled himself upright and leant against the bed frame.

Head pulsing painfully with a tremendous hangover, D'artagnan squinted over to Athos in question who remained on the floor, face down; his head buried under his leather doublet as both hands covered the back of his head -fingers massaging his scalp.

"Don' be ridiculous…you don't _stand_" Athos grumbled sleepily into the floor, eyes wisely remaining shut, "-You crawl with style."

Aramis scoffed from somewhere over yonder in the room as he stumbled about to find his missing boots and hat -annoyance churning in his stomach as he eyed the stained garment trapped under Porthos' large frame still slumbering on the floor -snores erupting from the danger zone periodically.

"Hang on…what do you mean 'you can't stand it'?" Miriam questioned D'artagnan, rubbing tiredly at her eyes as she rose from the bed and stretched out the stiffness in her arms -the matting strands of dark hair entangled outwards in almost every direction completing the humorous picture.

Otherwise occupied, D'artagnan stumbled against the bed -his feet tripping over themselves in an attempt to find balance.

Once he had settled, D'artagnan took a cautious step away from the grumbling form on the floor as his eyes flit between Miriam and his eldest brother warily.

After a few more intense seconds, D'artagnan gave up on finding a suitable excuse in his foggy mind and came out with the truth, "Look, I was thirsty, okay?! It was dark, you guys were sleeping -and I didn't want to wake you!"

There was a low grumble on the floor as Athos turned over onto his back and placed an elbow over his eyes, body squirming out the kinks in his back while he remained horizontal -and therefore balanced. He still remained eerily quiet.

"Go on" Aramis prodded, smug expression crossing his features as he donned his hat and looked expectantly o the youngest.

_He was glad not to have gotten involved in this drinking fiasco. They never ended well__…__and he certainly wouldn__'__t want to be in the boys shoes right now._

D'artagnan batted away Aramis' pestering fingers, scowled up at the cheeky grin an delivered a gaze that said 'Quit it or I'll break your fingers.'

Aramis backed off instantly, though a smile was still pinned to his face. D'artagnan watched enviously as his brother steadily moved back over to Porthos, his posture fluid and free, the carefree attitude reeking from his 'oh so high and mighty' expression.

However, in D'artagnans' opinion, Aramis stupidly forfeited his freedom when he gave Porthos a light shove with his boot. _Never a good idea._

Porthos shot up like a bolt of lightning, eyes wide, fists swinging, loud snore having heightened into a crescendo that bluntly stated "Whashappenin?!"

"D'artagnan here was just trying to explain why he drank the remainder of Athos' precious wine" Aramis offered the distraction "-you know, the one he saved for months on end and left out for safe keeping when we all retired for the evening" he filled in for all occupants.

D'artagnan sent his brother a sloppy glare which faded as Athos found sturdy arms and pushed himself up from the floor to rock into a kneeling position -his brothers red crusty eyes sending him and accusatory, cold stare that encouraged yet another cautious footstep back. _The bear had awoken._

"You drank the wine?" Athos questioned, slightly unfocused blues finding purchase on the blurred mop of black hair above him.

D'artagnans' eyes took to the floor and darted about his eldest brothers' scruffy attire. He would much rather lose face than meet his brothers eyes. He might have perfected 'the puppy stare' but Athos' 'eagle eyed glare' was known to eat puppies. _He _might _just survive if he didn't look… _

Besides, he didn't think he could muster a puppy stare-down this morning -his eye sockets felt like they'd been sucked dry…possibly to fill his roiling stomach full of acid.

_Seriously, why had he drank that poison?_

_Because I was desperate and my throat felt like a desert, that__'__s why _D'artagnan reasoned, scrubbing the back of his head sheepishly as he looked about for his own jacket and boots.

_Might need to make a quick getaway._

"I ask you again…Did you, or did you not, drink my Cabernet Sauvignon?" Athos demanded moodily, an arm now floundering for the bed as he shakily rose himself up from his knees and onto his feet.

D'artagnan took another nervous step back -and almost jumped out of his skin when Porthos loudly clapped his hands together and promptly split his skull in two.

"Ha ha! You'd best run for it whelp! Athos don' take kindly to people stealing his wine" Porthos chuckled heartily as he took to his feet and easily shoved Aramis' pestering hands away so he could throw the stained coat afar.

Aramis flew after it like a pigeon to crumbs while D'artagnan suffered at the mercy of an angry Athos' glare.

"Um, well…like I said before…I er…I was thirsty….and I um-" D'artagnan choked out, taking another step back and bumping into a dresser. _Trapped_.

D'artagnan gulped and eyed his mentor anxiously.

_A hung-over Athos was not a friendly one -nor forgiving. Especially when his wine was at stake._

Athos' eyes narrowed into slits at the answer and began to pace forwards -arms outstretched for what looked like D'artagnans neck while Aramis and Porthos looked on with amused smirks; the latter letting loose an excited bark of laughter.

But Miriam didn't look _nearly _as amused. In fact, she looked downright disapproving; with her arms tightly folded across her chest and her brow scrunched into the accompanying frown -her hair still sticking about at odd angles.

"Oliver Armand d'Athos de la Fère!" Miriam scolded loudly, the scathing gaze on his back and soul piercing words, halting her impetuously stubborn man on the spot.

_Nobody _ever dared to call Athos by his full name -let alone his title. It was simply not done. Especially as it was barely known, rarely used and painfully reminiscent.

All who knew his name made sure to keep it straight and simple -to his liking- lest they seek to incur a cold shoulder or dredge up violent mood swings.

But Miriam didn't give a carrots' toss what Athos thought of her behaviour. _He was not going to harm the boy over such a trivial matter as spilt wine -or rather, wine that had been 'spilt' down a certain someone's gizzard. This was all so trivial._

As Athos turned to give her a pointed stare, Miriam held back a happy smirk -secretly excited that she could now scold him properly; as she had once tried to do at the very beginning of all of this.

She'd discovered his name _eventually _on their trip back -prying the unwitting information from her soldier as his mind began to drift. _He probably regretted telling her now._

"I was just going to teach the boy a lesson, that's all!" Athos grumbled, a gesturing hand falling to his side as he stuck out a hip in defiance and brushed his other through his mussed hair -an exasperated sigh escaping his lips.

"_You _teach _him _a lesson? Ha!" Miriam quipped, hand on her hips now.

"Athos, you're drunker -if not _more- _than he is!" she dead-panned, "You're not fit to teach Roger a lesson!…_Besides_, it's just a little wine! We can get some more!" Miriam chided; the 'simple' reasoning earning her the simultaneous shake of the three brothers' heads.

_Apparently they already knew how this was going to turn out._

"Just a little!? -Listen here, Miriam, that _wine _was aged -delicious- and therefore very expensive. Such items cannot be expected to lay about on a shelf for half a century and remain in plentiful supply!" Athos tutored snidely.

" -So we can't just waste it all in one night!" he informed her impatiently; pinching his nose in utmost frustration.

"D'artagnan needs to learn that permission is a must when it comes down to such irreplaceable items" Athos informed the quiet room, turning back to D'artagnan expectantly -of whom was now acting like a sheep cornered by a wolf and footing about nervously.

This was because the 'sheep' was currently speculating how unlucky he was to have found Athos' bottle of expensive wine only half drained -and how much sharp teeth hurt.

D'artagnan had been honest when he'd stated that he was dying of thirst but thought it best not to leave the room. He hadn't wanted to disturb his brothers -and for their benefit- had chosen to be polite and attend to his own issues rather than bother any one else in the dead of night.

So, yes, D'artagnan _had _stolen Athos' fiery liquid -but he wouldn't, _couldn__'__t _admit it now -at least not so bluntly.

He supposed he could have left a little…but after overcoming the initial choking pains, the ruby stuff hadn't seemed so bad -in fact it had a rather numbing and calming effect on his soul.

And so D'artagnan had drank -all of it.

Now he was regretting it.

As Athos prepared to teach the youngest brother a 'lesson' once more and Aramis and Porthos danced on the outskirts to gleefully awaiting the entertaining spectacle -the brave Miriam squared off against her beloved as to what 'lessons were in store.'

But there was a sudden rap at the door.

Sighing loudly, shoulders slumping, Athos shuffled over to the door and wrenched it open, mouth jumbled with an assortment of wittily prepared insults -that fell flat in the face of his captain.

"Yes?" Athos begrudgingly implored, courteous as ever.

"May I come in?" Treville inquired, pressing against the entrance impatiently as he peered around the stiff, bedraggled frame of his lieutenant to the mess inside; more curious as to the womans appearance than his typical lieutenants hangover.

Only partially satisfied at the sight of seeing the occupants not dead, Treville looked back to his second in command -and almost caught the eye roll he'd been given, _almost_.

"As you can see, Sir, we are presently unfit at the moment, perhaps another-" Athos began but was cut off as Treville pushed his way in.

"-Nonsense! I've seen you lot in a worse state" he commented briskly, stopping at the foot of the bed to greet the blushing Miriam -and purposely leaving Athos to stare at the open door in annoyance as he always did with dramatic pauses.

"Now then-" Treville announced, clapping and rubbing his hands together as he surveyed the sorry lot -three of which winced at the sound.

_He had expected them to get drunk after last nights ordeal. He wouldn__'__t have advised it, but he had expected it none the less._

"-I know you're all tired and 'unfit' for duty-" Treville began; their faces filling with dubious expressions as they awaited the metaphorical, second boot to drop.

"But I'm afraid I must request a debriefing from my men" Treville informed; nodding to the lady present in hopes she would forgive him for the intrusion.

"We have a lot to discuss" he noted with finality, eyes meeting each of the soldiers in turn -the happy light in their eyes fading somewhat as they briefly reminisced over the past few days.

"And why can't _I _be present?" Miriam argued, stumbling to her feet to face off against the man known as Treville -puffing out her chest defiantly as she gave him the once over.

Not expecting such an informal debate with a female stranger, the captains resolve stuttered for a moment -and noticed, to his annoyance, that Athos seemed a little more amused than he should be by his hiccupped demeanour.

"Uhm, well because, Madame, I only request an audience with those who work alongside me" Treville informed the indignant woman -the habitual words rolling fluently from his tongue regarding their equal position to him, rather than beneath him.

"I have every right to be in this 'debriefing' with your men!" Miriam huffed, "-I've been with them from day one! I know almost everything there is to know about the matter" she squawked, shaking her head and gesturing wildly as she tried to convince him with anger.

_This particular approach didn't seem to be working._

"-Besides, you wouldn't want this poor, innocent soul, fretting alone about such unresolved, traumatic experiences, now would you?" Miriam added innocently; trying on D'artagnans' puppy dog eyes as she replaced her angriness with one of a lost child.

Reeling from the dramatically adverse display of emotions, Treville looked to his men -all of whom were smiling in approval of her wittiness.

Sighing, Treville turned back to the woman, already knowing where this would end up -and preferring to get it over with sooner rather than later.

"As you wish -but I must warn you, these discussions are not for the light hearted. You will be forced to relive what you have endured" Treville stated wisely; a concerned frown crossing his weathered features.

The room seemed to grow colder as the reality of the situation flooded back into the occupants lives. _Relive that hell, again? What a great way to start a day!_

After nods had served one another reassuringly, Treville left back for his quarters to await their presence while they dressed.

_He wasn__'__t eager to start but it would be best to move past this sour episode while it was still fresh. Better to rid it now rather than let it fester._

Minutes later, the company of five arrived and took up comfortable positions in the room; faces grim with partially hidden tales full of woe and anguish.

It would be hours before any of them left the room again.

~o0o~

Mentally drained and still feeling the effects of alcohol -for some- the five slowly slunk from the office and back out into the warm air of a sunny afternoon; the courtyard before them now casting off eerie vibes as its spotless appearance defied their memories.

They all knew the dead lay here moments ago -and they would never forget.

But it was all over now, the past had to stay in the past so that they could move forwards -_at least that__'__s what Treville had said, if not somewhat more elegantly put._

Athos' mind couldn't be bothered to think the matter over anymore and so instead, he stiffly descended the staircase with as much haste he could muster; a hand trailing behind his back as he tugged a tired Miriam along with him -the heavy footfalls of his brothers taking up the rear.

Deciding to focus on the long weeks-leave they had been granted, Athos took in a deep breath and turned back to his family; casting away the darker aura of emotions they had carried from the room and replacing it with his trademark smirk, eager to have things return back to normal.

"Wha' are you grinnin' about?" Porthos grumbled, swiping his brothers' hat from his head, folding it into his fists as he took a seat at a nearby semi-reconstructed bench.

Athos' smirk faded as he snatched back his hat and took a seat opposite, ignoring the tug at his ribs as Miriam took her place by his side and leant against him comfortingly.

_It had been rough going, but she__'__d pulled through_. Athos couldn't be more proud of her.

"I am merely contemplating our week of freedom" Athos offered, eyeing the table for a bottle of wine he was sure would appear any moment.

It was then that his quick mind sadly recalled 'his' wine was currently being soaked up by the earth behind him as it had been 'used' for other purposes.

Athos began feeling strangely jealous of the dirt for a split second before his brothers brought him back to attention. _Never a moment of peace._

"Since when has _leave _ever made you happy?" D'artagnan chanced; hoping the light humour and darker conversation had allowed his mentor to forget his misgivings about the expensive wine.

"Yeah, thought you'd probably want to stick together after all -that" Aramis pitched in; choosing to sit atop the bench and plant his feet at Athos' left side -knees annoyingly close to his face.

"Who said I didn't want to stick together?" Athos challenged, shoving the leg away from his face and subsequently knocking Aramis from the bench with a yelp.

Athos, Porthos and D'artagnan shared a smile as Aramis growled on the floor and took back to his feet.

"You were insinuating-" Aramis argued, wagging a finger in his face before his rant was cut off.

"Enough of the big words, 'kay? We already know you're as pretty as you are dumb, Mis' -and we still accept you all the same" Porthos teased, placing a mocking hand of comfort on his brothers injured shoulder.

Aramis quickly shrugged it off, taking insult at the barb and the unintended jab -both of which only fuelled his temper. He may not have drank, but he hadn't slept much. Not after _that_. There was still a long road of recovery ahead for all of them yet.

Aramis wasn't so sure he was going to enjoy his time off at this rate -and considering his brute of a brother was recovering faster than he could keep up with, trouble was sure to play into the cards fate, no doubt quite literally.

"Watch my shoulder you dumb oaf" Aramis accused; stealing a hat from Porthos' hands and raising it high with his good arm.

Porthos quickly rose to his feet to follow the stolen garment but D'artagnan deftly snatched it out from between them both and put it on his own head.

"Nope, much too big!" D'artagnan declared, the large indent of the hats interior covering his cranium easily and slipping over his eyes, "-But man oh man, you sure do have a big head Porthos" the youngest noted, cheekily.

"-you could fit a melon under here!" he jested as the hat was ripped free -his hair sticking up with the static of the motion making Athos chuckle lightly while Miriam covered her smile regarding Porthos' insult with a polite hand.

Porthos took his seat and clapped the black hat back to his head, leaning away slightly lest they try it again.

He was protective of his things…and he was sure Aramis secretly aimed to get revenge for his stained coat. _He could see it happening already._

"Well, where do you think he gets them from?" Aramis teased, knowing full well that their infamous 'melon-shot' trick wasn't actually acquired from the contents of his brothers' hat.

_Porthos__'__ sleeves were the only thing known to hide such objects -mainly cards- but that was irrelevant right now. _

_His brothers were having too much fun with this new trail of thought _Porthos mused, somewhat grumpily.

"You know, you _could _learn to share" D'artagnan scolded; grin broadening as Porthos aimed to cuff him about the head -and missed.

"Awfully hypocritical of you to suggest" Athos broke in -his thoughts turning back to his stolen wine.

D'artagnan ducked his head in embarrassment and instead grumbled, "_Fine_… next time I'll just die of thirst…"

"You're doin' an terrible amount of complainin' today -whelp" Porthos butted in, happy to get his own back now that the lad had been taken down a peg.

"-Maybe Athos _should _teach you some manners" he added, sharing a mischievous grin from the man himself and earning wide, frightened eyes from D'artagnan -especially as Aramis closed in from behind and boxed him into the table with two hands to the back of his shoulders.

Miriam batted his hands away with a distasteful tut and Aramis relented with a smile.

"You'll do no such thing" she informed the lot, glancing about to hold their glinting eyes with a more severe look.

"Of course" Athos replied instantly -his apparent submission to her will contested by the sparkle in his eyes and slight turn of his lips. _Lies_.

Miriam rolled her eyes and shook her head. _Men_.

Just then, a loud rumble sounded from under the table -and thankfully this time, it wasn't the hooves of horses.

"Speakin' of melon…who's hungry?" Porthos inquired looking about expectantly to his family as his stomach grumbled loudly for a second time.

_They were late for lunch and they hadn__'__t even had breakfast! This was certainly not the way he intended to start his glorious week off, starving._

Athos put up a hand of refusal and smiled his usual 'no thanks.' He had quickly learnt never to eat after a hangover, not unless he wanted to spray the town orange with the contents of his stomach.

It made him sick just thinking about it…thankfully Athos knew a source of sweetness that could cure his ailments -_even if __'__the source__'__ was a fiery, prickly fellow after a night on the grog._

Aramis looked between Athos and Miriam and sensed their unspoken plea for privacy.

_He knew Athos would never leave their side -let alone ask to do so. He felt responsible for them as their leader and rarely had time to himself -lest he was drinking deep in his bottles._

Taking pity on their secret plight, Aramis nodded to Athos knowingly and made sure to give Miriam a warm smile before turning back to Porthos and clamping a gloved arm to his shoulder.

"That sounds like a splendid idea, brother! I'm absolutely famished!" Aramis replied excitedly; the deceiving smile plastered to his face and his silver tongue working its magic as it always did.

Athos gave his brother a grateful smile and drew an arm around Miriams' shoulder, "You're not hungry are you?" he whispered, leaning into her side as he watched his brothers haul D'artagnan to his feet.

"Hardly" came her reply, suppressing the need to burp in case it brought back last nights contents. _She might be able to drink the strong stuff with the guys -but holding it down like a professional alcoholic was another thing entirely._

Athos nodded happily and looked expectantly back to his brothers -who had been fussing the entire time; Porthos having caught onto the situation through Aramis' subtle looks.

Now all that was left was to convince the ever frustratingly stubborn D'artagnan along.

"No, really, go on without me. I wouldn't be able to keep anything down anyway" D'artagnan assured them, digging his heels into the dirt and leaning back towards the bench even as Porthos tried to swing him around.

"Nah, no man gets left behind!" Porthos reminded; gleeful grin on his face as he wrenched D'artagnan forwards once more -the boys' face paling slightly as his stomach knotted and his brain sloshed around inside its case.

"I thought it was 'every man for himself'?" D'artagnan ranted, giving Aramis a pointed stare before looking back to Athos curiously -the man of which had made no move to intervene or help him -as he usually would by the time. _Strange_…

"Very funny, now come along little one" Aramis coaxed, grabbing D'artagnan by the other arm as Porthos held tightly onto the other.

The youngest was forced to comply in his weakened state -his recent run through with a bullet, long sleepless nights and a healthy dose of alcohol -that remained in his system- only seeking to make his opinions invalid as he was manhandled away from the bench.

In a last ditch effort, D'artagnan purposely went limp in their arms and faked a heave, "I think I'm going to be sick" he groaned.

Immediately the hands gripping his arms stopped in their incessant tugging and firmly worked to keep him aloft instead -a second pair of hands pushing up his midriff as one was placed comfortingly against his back. _Athos_.

"I warned you not to be up and about in your state" Athos grumbled from behind, tone soft and comforting as he circled around the boys' front to meet with Aramis who was now trying to hold a strong gaze with their pup -no doubt trying to determine whether the lad truly was sick or this was another one of his sneaky ruse's.

Athos sighed as he looked back to Miriam, their time would have to wait, unfortunately.

"We should bring him back to his quarters to rest -he is still injured after all" Athos suggested, already switching places with Aramis as he saddled half of his younger brothers weight across his own shoulders.

"-I can stay by his side while you go for a meal?" he added, stepping back into 'big brother' mode and masking his slightly put out expression.

But Aramis shook head defiantly, struggling to weave his way back into D'artagnans' embrace and knock Athos back out of the huddle.

"Pah! I'm sure some grub of Serges' will change your mind, kid" Porthos voluntold the boy; forcing D'artagnan to straighten his legs out against the ground and take some of his own weight.

_He might be weak, possibly hung-over, but if the boy was in the right mind to argue -which he had been only seconds ago- then he was well enough to visit the canteen! _Porthos reasoned.

_D'art didn__'__t have to eat, that was fine by him, but he was _going _to accompany them, no ifs, ands or buts. Athos deserved some spare time 'alone.'_

"No, I _really _don't think so" D'artagnan moaned, keeping up the façade and trying to sway as best he could without aggravating his head further. _His eyes were still too dry for full puppy mode but he could easily gather sympathy some other way._

Just as Athos was wrestling his way back into the struggling arms, Aramis wedged his side to D'artagnans,' hooked the boy around the waist and began forcibly marching off in the direction of food -his sudden actions yanking them all forwards complacently before anyone had the sense to dig their feet in protest.

Aramis had wanted D'artagnan to get the hint easily so that Athos wouldn't feel burdened to stay by their side. The mans' time with Miriam was already limited -and before long he would be back at his post, on duty, and unable to leave.

_He could knock some sense into the boy when they reached their destination, but as it was currently, he could settle for a swift dragging through the courtyard._

"Perhaps some bread then!"Aramis grunted, still trudging along and leaving Athos and Miriam dumbstruck in his wake; Porthos forcing his arm back under the boys opposite arm, " -might sponge up some of that alcohol in your system" the medic commented optimistically.

Still struggling nobly, D'artagnan looked up at Aramis' expression -clearly voicing his disagreement. _He was not convinced_.

"Since when does _that _work?" D'artagnan inquired suspiciously, dragging his feet.

"Since today" Porthos grumbled, marching alongside, face somewhat cloudy as he put up with the annoying storm of arguments the runt was creating.

Looking between the two at the blunt words, D'artagnans slow mind suddenly clicked into gear -his feet finding ground underneath him as he stumble back into a walk and cast a look over his shoulder to the couple in arms who were watching after them.

D'artagnan smiled.

_Now it all made sense! His brothers weren__'__t here to force-feed him soup! No, they were dragging him away so Athos could have some __'__alone time__'__ with Miriam! Why hadn__'__t he seen it sooner?!_

Having only ventured ten feet or so in their clumsy get away, D'artagnans' brisk walk abruptly ended when he slammed his feet into the earth, ripped his arms free from his friends and stood on his own -now making sure to play it big in front of Athos to reassure the man, yawning and stretching with a smile.

D'artagnan knew Athos wouldn't have asked for this, it wasn't in his nature. _He knew he__'__d be there -if he needed to- for his family. Even if he__'__d prefer to spend the day lounging with Miriam and showing her the sights of Paris. _

D'artagnan was no fool and he liked to think he wasn't so selfish to deprive his brother. _Athos could have this day__…__but tomorrow, well, he wasn__'__t going to make any promises. One day alone with just these two for company was more than enough for his liking._

"You know what? On second thought, some bread and cheese sounds great!" D'artagnan announced for all; eyes now much brighter with the beam adorning on his face. The perfect image of youth in all its glory, just raring to go.

"There ya go! Knew you had it in you!" Porthos informed happily, waiting on the boy as he offered Athos a smile.

"Not for long" D'artagnan mused quietly with a slight grimace; his hands resisting the urge to hug his stomach as he stood strong and waved back to Athos and Miriam who were slowly venturing nearer.

Judging by the light blush and warm smile on the couples' faces, Porthos was pretty sure this whole pretence of 'we aim to serve our own stomachs' had been blown wide open by now. _Athos had a brilliant mind, but it hardly took brains to realize that D__'__artagnan was putting on a show._

D'artagnan was in the 'lets scram, for their sake' stage -Athos could see it written all over his brothers' faces.

"Are you sure?" Athos pressed, eyeing the three in partial concern. _He didn__'__t want them ruining their health on his account….plus that would only mean he'd have more hard work later._

"Yeah, really -now bugger off" D'artagnan retorted sarcastically, "Can't you see Miriams' waiting on you? -Or have you forgotten your manners?" he jested; his wit meaning to display a sense of strength about him.

Instead it served as an appropriate distraction as Athos stepped back, looking slightly miffed.

"Ha! Manners! Don't think I've forgotten about your little midnight ransacking of my quarters" Athos reminded the youngest -blue eyes boring down into the deep browns of his protégés'.

D'artagnan brushed off the eldest' glare easily with a simple shrug of his shoulders and promptly turned his back on the flustered looking man - dragging his brothers along to the kitchen.

As Athos stood dumbstruck and watched his mischievous brothers' go, he felt a small pair of arms circle around his chest and a familiar warmth press into his back -shaking him from his stupor.

"Have fun!" D'artagnan called back, winking over to the pair just as he turned the corner -devilish smile on his lips, "Don't get too carried away, Athos!" he added with a loud chuckle before he slipped out of sight.

The boy didn't catch the twitching of Athos' left eye nor the heat radiating from his embarrassment fuelled glare.

_The moment was officially ruined, the boy would pay._

**Haha, aw poor Athos! Well, it's only part one, so I shall put part two up within the day! Lots of things happen in the second half ;)**

**Let me know what you thought of this one anyway! :D**


	38. Peace' at Long Last

**Here you go! It's about to heat up -and cool down- all at once in here, so I hope you brought a blanket ;) VERY big final chapter, so I hope you can endure! ;)**

**I listened to: Here I Am by Bryan Adams for the intro 'Mirthos' scene, it's quite fitting!**

**Aaaaanyways, Enjoy!**

Athos wisely chose to remain silent at the boys cheeky remark but he could feel his cheeks redden none the less.

_How dare he! The nerve! Here he was trying to be kind and gentle and his brother flips around and shoves it back in his face?! So he was going to play that game, hm? Well two could-_

Athos' fuming trail of thought was cut off when a small hand cupped his cheek and turned his face away from his brothers exit to take in the beautiful smile of a loving woman staring up at him.

"I wouldn't dote on it, my love. Boys will be boys, so I suggest you-" Miriam began.

"-what? Become a girl?" Athos teased; temper settling as he drank in her simple radiance and turned his whole body to face her -draping his hands against her hips and leaning his forehead down towards hers -mirroring her own bold actions of hooking her arms around his neck.

"No, silly!" Miriam berated, slapping his playfully as he offered a small smile.

"A _woman _can't buy booze _or _pull carrots for me" she teased; fingers fondly stroking the dark curls at the back of his neck absently as she pressed into his chest and looked up into his blue, crystal depths.

"Ah! So you're _using _me then?" Athos retorted, good naturedly -continuing in their childish banter as he pulled her closer.

Miriam giggled, tugging at his hair playfully and yanking his head back -relishing the flicker of surprise and desire it brought to his eyes.

"I wouldn't call it using, per say…perhaps borrowing indefinitely?…or lending tasteful aid?" Miriam suggested with a smirk.

Tilting his head to the side in mock consideration and looking about, Athos prepared another smart comeback for his childish, alcoholic, playmate.

"You think too much" Miriam announced suddenly, pulling his head closer with an insistent hand and stealing a soft kiss from his warm lips.

It only took a second for his body to respond; his recent integration back into this world of romancing having sparked old feelings of both desire and lust.

Pulling her tightly against his chest, Athos bowed his head obligingly and angled his face against her own, allowing her to lead the way, at her own pace, as he raised a gentle hand to tenderly cup her cheek and push the raven dark strands behind her ear.

Toes curling as warmth pooled in her stomach, Miriam twined her fingers hungrily through his dark locks and pulled him closer, practically bending over backwards as her mouth sought to consume his in a passionate kiss.

Losing her balance in the peculiar pose, Miriam began to fall back in the embrace -her tight hold on her partner, tugging him down with her as she stumbled backwards.

Unable to catch himself -as she remained in front of him, Athos clumsily fell down to the floor atop Miriam -bracing his arms either side of her head in an attempt not to crush her into the floor.

After a second of slightly shocked silence, Miriam broke out into a giggle and wrapped her arms back around his neck in the compromising position.

Despite the deserted courtyard, Athos was still highly aware that their unflattering manner could easily be spotted should anyone so much as turn their head.

_He could not be spotted like this again! His dignity could only take so many hits in a short period of time before it became irreparably damaged…but that would mean ending this lovely 'experience'…hmmmm, what to do…. _Athos' mind began to wander.

"That was exciting" Miriam chuckled, pulling him down further and losing herself to his features. She could easily smell the strong, familiar scent of powder, leather and horses on him from here -though perhaps the nearby stables had something to do with that.

"Indeed" Athos echoed, somewhat breathlessly, now straining to stay above her body as his side reminded him of its recent 'endeavours.'

"I hate to break it to you, but we cannot do this here" Athos abruptly urged, trying to roll off her body as her persistent hands trickled down his front to tease a stray hair peeking out from the top of his chest, level with the lapels of his doublet.

_She was sending his senses into overdrive. He wouldn__'__t be able to maintain his control if she kept this up._

"Miriam" Athos pleaded, the inflection of his voice stilling her curious hands and drawing her sultry green orbs to his; those dark pupils dilated with a desire that he hadn't had the pleasure of receiving for oh so long.

Time stood still as Miriam held his eyes with her own -their slightly ragged breathing being the only sound to interrupt the silence other than the thunder of frantically beating hearts that pulsed as one.

_It had been so long since he__'__d been with a woman, been able to trust a woman, been able to get this close._

_And now here he was__…__inches away from perhaps the most gorgeous female he__'__d seen in, well, he didn__'__t know when. Aramis might have been jealous if he hadn__'__t already set his sights on a particular other._

But it wasn't her beauty that stole his heart, it was always her hard-headed nature, her loyalty to his cause and that of his family, her will power, her strength of mind, her humorous and witty remarks, her caring soul.

For once, Athos didn't care what might happen between the two. Love was always a risk, it would never stop being one… _But this felt so right__…__he shouldn__'__t just reject her outright__…__he didn__'__t think he could even if he wanted to. _

_This was a new investment -more than a simple horse or a hat. This was _life_, this was a commitment to the future._

_And as long as Miriam was willing, he would try his best to live up to a fuller potential to provide a new life for her. She deserved it, they both did. With her by his side, they could accomplish anything. They had already survived fates' cruel axe twice, they could handle anything else thrown at them now. _

_Perhaps laying here and giving into this sweet torture would go unnoticed _Athos mused hopefully as he eyed her swollen lips once more -his mind beginning to break down against his resolve as his breathing became more shallow.

He obviously wouldn't go so far as to steal her virtue in such an rude, rushed manner -though the lust was there. _No, this was just an innocent frolic -in the hay. Nothing she couldn__'__t handle -especially since she seemed to be leading the way._

_That _kind of romancing was reserved for months down the line, when they'd had time to grow, to invest, to commit, to love deeply in everything but physicality's. Athos was in no rush, he knew time became endless when he was around her.

"Athos?"

The small squeaking voice broke the musketeer out of his reverie and he looked back to Miriam expectantly.

"Yes?" he questioned, pecking her forehead, lovingly.

"You're squashing me" Miriam confessed, voice strained as she tried to breathe in under his collapsed weight. He didn't even remember giving in.

Eyes opening wide in surprise and concern, Athos immediately rolled up and off her body, freeing her from the leather tomb as he lay by her side and smiled sheepishly.

"Sorry" he grumbled nervously.

Miriam gave him a warm smile and rolled after him -straw sticking into her hair and dress as she straddled his hips, their forms now covered by the darkness of shadows thanks to the overhanging porch above their heads.

Leaning back down against his warm body, Miriam dropped a kiss on his nose; keeping her eyes open to gauge his reaction. This was perhaps the most relaxed she'd ever seen him and it made her happy to see that she could make him as happy as he made her.

Looking down to him as she sat back up, Miriam chanced a look about the empty courtyard -Athos following her gaze with half lidded eyes; his nonchalant posture lessening slightly as he re-evaluated their newly compromising position and let out a sigh.

_This would not do. If Treville caught him -or her- like this, he would have a heart attack__…__or in the very least, reprimand his unprofessional behaviour. _

_He might be on leave, but he was still within the walls of the garrison -where skill and representation of the musketeer regiment were key._

As Miriam satisfied her worries and leaned back to kiss him with another disarming manoeuvre, Athos gently placed his arms to her hips and rolled her off and onto her side -the pouting expression he received leaving him chuckling lightly.

_She always managed to make him laugh._

Unsure of what his strange chuckling meant, Miriam attempting a second kiss -but Athos sneakily remained out of reach as he purposely tucked her head under his chin and prevented further action.

"Steady girl, there will be more time for that" Athos teased, his chest humming in her ears as he spoke in soft dulcet tones.

Slightly annoyed by the rejection, Miriam cut back with a "I'm not a horse, you know."

Athos smiled at her quick change in temper, his natural reactions hidden from her sight -safe from further criticism.

"A dog perhaps?" he mused, trailing a strand of her hair in small circles against the pale skin of her arm.

_It tickled -very much like a feather_. Athos smiled as Miriam shivered reflexively but refused to bat it away or cave to his teasing.

"I don't beg" Miriam countered, small frown taking over her face as she kneaded the leather of his side, grinning cruelly as he hissed at the slight pressure.

_Love hurt. She had to remind who was in charge once in a while, right?_

"Not yet" Athos added darkly, his intent serious even if _that _was much further down the road.

Completely sidestepping the barb, Miriam took a different tack, "Why are you so insistent on animals? Do you have a fetish?" she taunted, knowing the inappropriate suggestion would rile him up.

It did.

"God no!" Athos replied, horrified -feeling deeply affronted by her words as he sought her eyes for seriousness or mischief.

_Mischief… she was just teasing. Good _Athos listed, relieved.

_She certainly did have a dirty mind__…__her brothers had most likely influenced that._

"-I merely cant help but see you as one" Athos added with a barb of his own -holding back the telltale signs he was joking as she stiffened in offence.

"How rude!" Miriam declared, prying herself roughly from his embrace and shakily rising into a sitting position to cast her glowering eyes down at his amused face -though it soon sobered and filled with sincerity.

"On the contrary, animals are a part of nature -and nature holds divine beauty that cannot be matched by any other" Athos replied smoothly.

"However, nature, as you know, contains unrivalled powers that hold the ability to bring forth both peace and wrath…I've yet to see the latter- and hope to keep you from it" Athos finished.

And so, it was over the course of a few words that Miriams' temper ceased to exist -her heart melting at the poetic imagery he laid before her; noting his sleek comparison to her own apparent beauty.

Miriam blushed deeply, trying to hide her face in the prickly hay as he continued to gaze boldly at her, no doubt proud of what he'd done.

Waiting for him to quit pestering her with that smug expression, Miriam picked at the straw absently; her mind drifting back to that grassy meadow, surrounded by dew, under the starry night…_oh well, this would have to do._

Secretly, she would never trade this moment for the past -but she certainly wasn't going to tell Athos that, lest his head explode of pig headedness.

A sigh abruptly sounded at her side and Miriam turned back to see Athos struggling to his feet, straw falling down the neck of his doublet, causing him to claw for it in frustration before giving up entirely and bending back to offer her his hand.

"Ah, the gentleman has returned, I see" Miriam teased, taking his hand and rising up to his side.

Inclining his head in a mocking manner, Athos mocked a bow, then looped her arm comfortingly within his and guided her back out into the sunlight; stumbling in the direction of the stables so he may tour her around Paris.

_It was as good an idea as any._

Continuing in their banter, Athos took up an aloof demeanour -consisting mostly of raised eyebrows, puckered lips and eyes that stared down the length of his nose idiotically.

He held back a silly smile as she giggled at his antics. He knew this was how all nobles behaved on the inside -but it was all the more funnier to display it outwardly, he found.

"So, Madame-" Athos suddenly stopped cold in his tracks, eyes widening slightly as his façade dropped entirely.

"I don't even know your last name!" he announced in horror, expression one of pure astonishment.

Miriam blinked once and nodded slowly, tilting her head to the side as she thought back. She couldn't remember if she'd told him or not -he certainly didn't.

_This would be fun._

Perhaps not so much for Athos -as his mind was now set aflame with guilt and shame.

_She knew all about him, and yet, he didn__'__t even know about her! Where were his manners!?_

_She had obviously messed with his mind again. _Athos sighed in exasperation, trying to slow his racing heart as he stepped from foot to foot awkwardly.

Miriam giggled after a moment of leaving him hanging and apologizing profusely.

_She liked to hold power once in a while -it never came her way since she was a woman. And so, when it did, she liked to abuse it, at their expense. Not too sinful, right? _Miriam obviously didn't think so.

Stopping his rant with a finger to his lips, Miriam took pity on his position and decided to entreat him.

"My full name -if you must know- is Miriam, Juliet, Charlotte, Candace Bonnaire" she informed simply; grin becoming sincere and warm as she took him by the hand and decided she would lead the way to the stables.

_He was heading in that direction after all._

Or he had been until he froze for a second time.

"Wait…did you say…Bonnaire?!" Athos stuttered, eyeing her critically for the first time as he desperately compared and contrasted differences.

_She was not nearly as tanned as that scoundrel__…__but that could easily be explained by the mans constant travelling expedites to the southern, tropical colonies. _

Sadly, apart from _that _glaring characteristic, the two Bonnaires' shared the same short stature, dark hair, twinkling eyes, mischievous smiles and witty humour.

_DAMN IT ALL!_

_No, he couldn't accept this yet…_

Miriam looked on in concern, the paling complexion of her man worrying her greatly enough to reach out a steadying arm.

"Do you happen to have a brother?" Athos stammered, mind already tracing back to past conversations and miserably recalling that she did indeed have siblings.

"Which one is it this time?" Miriam inquired, her exasperation replacing her worry as her curiosity piqued at his implications.

Miriam had no idea how Athos knew someone else by her surname, possibly a brother of hers -_but even if he had, how was it relevant?_

"_Which _one!?" Athos spluttered, eyes now blown wide as he searched her face for any more signs of teasing.

_Well, she had mentioned them in a plural term__…__but he hadn__'__t thought it mattered at the time! _

Athos groaned inwardly. _He hoped his theories were wrong. He dearly dearly hoped he was wrong._

…_But if he was right, what then?_

Athos stopped her again before she could continue, the alarm in his expression beginning to unnerve her greatly.

"Wait, -how many do you have?" Athos inquired, hand resting on her arm to steady himself, feeling very much the damsel in distress.

Deciding to humour him -though there was nothing funny about this any more, Miriam lazily counted off her fingers as she went.

"Well, let's see… There's, Robert, Michel, Luke, Tom, Charles, San, Gabriel, Emile-"

"_Emile!?__"_Athos gasped at the name, fingers tightening on her arm as he stiffened at the damning identity_. _

_Emile Bonnaire. Surely not!__…__But how!? Why!? Please, god, no!_

"Why? What's he done now?!" Miriam whined, crossing her arms over her chest and cocking her head expectantly to the side.

_Leave it to Emile to ruin a perfectly good moment. _

After reeling a moment longer from the ghastly realization, Athos expertly schooled his features and put back on a much brighter mask.

"Oh, er, nothing!…Just thought I'd heard his name before… Would have never guessed you were -related" Athos fumbled, looping her arm back into his and leading her to his recovered stallion in the stables.

_He would have to think on this later, what it might mean for their relationship, her safety, their future. That _man _was an incompetent nuisance and a rather dangerous fool too__…_

…_And as 'luck' might have it, the fool was missing too _Athos recalled grimly_. __There had been the slight issue of Emiles' ship never having docked at the Spanish prison -to which they__'__d deceivingly sent him to. He'd probably managed to weasel his way out of it somehow like he always did with a trinket, golden feather or glass of African beverage or other._

_Now it looked like they__'__d have to track him down__…__for her sake._

Athos sighed as he gave her a careful foot up into the readied saddle and guided both woman and horse out into the courtyard before hopping up -making sure he could wrap his arms around her and keep her upright.

"So, Madame -Bonnaire.." Athos tested, still trying to keep the mood light and keep her suspicions at bay. The words didn't quite feel right in his mouth but he could hardly do anything about it.

"-Are you ready for the 'royal' tour of Paris?" Athos inquired, lightly tugging the reigns and setting off, despite the lacking answer.

"Definitely!" Miriam replied eagerly, "-But don't think I've forgotten about Emile…I know there's more than you're telling me about" she stated matter-of-factly.

Athos' stomach twisted uncomfortably at the new conflict that pitted guilt in his gut. _Just when it was all starting to get better and look brighter_…_way to rain on the parade, Emile._

Athos sighed and humoured her for the time being, "Yes, dear. I shall entreat you to my many -mysteries- when we return" he informed, attempting a smile that didn't quite meet his eyes.

Moving the dark stallion forwards, Athos decided to head over to the palace grounds. He spent so much time guarding the place as it was that it seemed like the most logic choice - and the most scenic route with which to start at.

_Perhaps they could also hide out with a picnic under his favourite willow... Yes, that sounded nice. _Athos smiled lightly.

_They shouldn__'__t be noticed__…__King Louis had his nose much too far up his own a-_

Miriam grumbled and shifted suddenly in the saddle; a supposed protest against having to wait for the full story.

"Now, are you going to be quiet and listen to my boring narrations? -Or am I going to have to gag you and turn this horse around?" Athos dared, tone becoming playful once more.

Miriam twisted slightly in the saddle so she could eye her beloved soldier _-the one with the heart of gold and eyes of sapphire. The one who couldn__'__t defeat a measly carrot._

"I'd like to see you try, handsome" Miriam flirted, eyes shining as she turned back around in the saddle, a lock of hair catching her surprised rider in the face and causing him to gag and spit out the strands in annoyance.

"We'll see" Athos murmured into her ear as he encouraged his mount forth, a comfortable silence settling between the two until Athos felt the need to describe a certain historical fixture or put poetic justice towards a particularly beautiful structure or natural form of art -such was the beautiful row of birch trees, intermittent with small blossoms.

It was through such narrations that Miriam came to see how insightful her man really was along the journey -his attention to detail quite stunning and exquisite.

Perhaps it had been due to the rich background of which he'd told her he'd been raised, maybe it was his nature to appreciate the small things.

Whatever it was, she loved him for it…. _He would be a good decorator should they choose to move in together, eventually._

Miriam felt a warmth surge forth at the thought and she placed a gentle hand on the leg behind her; the only minor movement she could manage without hurting her side or falling from the jolting saddle.

She received a tighter hug in response and she smiled.

_She had found the perfect man at last. No words need be spoken, a bond had been created. Nothing would separate them now -other than this strange business with her brother- which she would have to get to the bottom of._

~o0o~

After circling around both country and city for hours on end -and managing a small but pleasant picnic in between- Athos delivered Miriam safely back to her new residence and dismounted to say a goodnight.

"We're not going to the tavern?" Miriam pointed out, face scrunched in confusion that he intended to leave her here for the night.

"I didn't think it appropriate after such a long day -especially considering the establishment is rather -rowdy" Athos chose.

_He didn__'__t want to ruin their perfect day with spilt wine, loud noises and questionable stenches. No, he wanted to remember the warmth of the summer sun, the glory of the palace meadows, the elegant trimmings of houses and structures. She'd even insisted on seeing the court of miracles -to which he'd gradually been forced to allow. Her heart and curiosity knew no bounds._

Although that was the riskiest thing he had allowed -and a simple tavern wasn't at the same level of threat- Athos didn't want to chance it.

"Rowdy?" Miriam repeated, eyes half lidded and disbelieving as her mouth twisted into an unsatisfied frown.

"-But it's still so early! You can't hardly expect me to trek upstairs, get into bed and go to sleep now!" she argued.

Athos smiled, "You sleep in your clothes?" he questioned.

Miriam slapped him on the arm in annoyance, "Stop trying to avoid the conversation. We are _going _to the tavern, _you _will buy me a drink -and then we can hash out this '_Emile business' -_no, I haven't forgotten about it, like you may have hoped" Miriam declared; her demanding tone and stubborn nature coming out all at once, leaving Athos to wobble in his decision.

"But the smell-" Athos tried feebly, but Miriam shook her head.

"Athos, you _really _think a foul odour is going to bother me after I've lived on a farm all my life" she questioned, sarcasm evident in her tone.

"Touché" came the single reply of defeat.

"It's settled then! Now, if you don't mind, I'll be needing a hand back up -I can't reach from here" Miriam pointed out.

Athos was down in a flash, rather embarrassed to have forgotten his manners -which never happened- and helped her back onto the saddle before stepping up behind and heading back to the stables.

_The tavern was an easy walk from the garrison. He would know._

"Do you have a time that you need to be back by?" Athos asked, doing his best for a light conversation -that didn't involve Emile.

"I'm a young woman, Athos, I don't have a bedtime any more" Miriam explained, tutting and rolling her eyes.

"Well you could have fooled me, you're always acting like an immature child" Athos countered, nicking his mount forth with a new smile on his face.

Miriam sighed and decided silence would be the best option. She would make him sweat, make him think he had said something wrong_. It was the best way to deal with his wit. _

She had begun to learn that her mans' stares said anything and everything he ever wanted to say -more so than words could accomplish. Miriam just needed a little practise is all.

After stabling Roger and setting off, the silence had become comfortable once more. It seemed her man was no stranger to it. She would have to try a different approach.

However, by the time the couple had reached The Wren, Athos really was sweating -though for a different reason entirely.

_Riding and talking was one thing, but walking with healing wounds, after a long day out -for any amount of distance- was exhausting!_

Athos made a mental note not to step a foot outside the garrison without Roger again; his steed could do with the exercise after all the gift apples he had acquired after his long, arduous journey.

_The stallion was beginning to treat him as the peasant while it trotted around like a god. Not on his watch. He__'__d straighten Roger out soon enough._

Walking, or rather, shuffling, into the tavern -as it would be a more accurate description- Athos quickly sent Miriam over to his favourite secluded table and ordered their first round of wine.

_Maybe if he got her slightly sotted, she would forget about Emile._

"So, what's all this about my brother then?" Miriam quipped up as Athos took a seat, suppressing a groan of disappointment as he did so.

_No, apparently she would never be silenced. Great!_

Preparing to give Miriam the long and hard story regarding her brother, Athos clasped her hands and gave her a sincere, heavy look that bespoke of guilt.

"What?" Miriam dragged out the word, concern gnawing at the fringes of her consciousness.

Before Athos could begin, three familiar forms barged into the tavern, their loud, obnoxious entrance gathering Miriams' attention and provoking her to wave them over with a happy smile.

Athos sighed deeply once more and knocked back the first drink of the night, knowing who she had been greeting without having to turn.

_He was going to need a lot more of these drinks… Good job the Captain had given them all extra coin as a little reward for their work. He would have to remember to thank the man -he intended to get plastered tonight- if Miriam would allow it, or didn__'__t beat him to it!_

" 'ows it goin', love birds" Porthos teased, lovingly, slapping Athos hard on the back and causing the eldest to choke on his wine as he stole a chair by the two.

Giving his brother a cold glare as he recovered his composed state, Athos decided to hit his brother where it hurt and earned a yelp -to his pleasure.

"Firstly, we are not birds" Athos corrected, "Secondly, if you try to choke me on my wine again -I will throttle you" he finished, eyes full of dark promises. Porthos smiled nervously at his brother and dropped the argument.

"You're really running with this 'protective wine theme' today, aren't you, Athos?" Aramis quipped rhetorically, leaning back against the wall by the table; hanging back out of courtesy to the couple -despite Porthos' obvious intrusion.

_He for one knew how annoying it was when his company with a female was so rudely interrupted. But that didn__'__t mean he couldn__'__t __'__talk__'__ to them_. Aramis grinned cheekily as Athos scowled over to him.

"I wouldn't need to protect it if it weren't in danger of being stolen" Athos reported, giving a look back to D'artagnan who waved innocently over from the bar, a smirk to his lips.

Waiting silently for the boy, Athos shifted uncomfortably in his seat -his unusual behaviour sparking the interest of his brothers and the curiosity of Miriam.

Unaware of the goings on, D'artagnan turned up happily with three more mugs -their contents sloshing about as his slightly stooped form robbed him of his balance.

_It wasn__'__t easy being injured while delivering drinks. Then again, nobody had claimed it was._

As the boy stole a second chair from a neighbouring table and Aramis stepped in to grab his own mug, Athos gave them all an anxious stare.

"There is no easy way to begin this, so I shall say it outright" Athos announced; the intensity of his stare and the seriousness of his manner causing the brothers to lower their mugs ever so slightly.

"Brothers, I believe you remember Emile Bonnaire?" Athos reminded the trio -the shared looks of distaste becoming immediately apparent on their faces -much to Miriams' confusion.

"Oh what now!?" D'artagnan whined, head slumping into a hand that was propped by his elbow.

_They__'__d only just got back! This was their week of leave! It just wasn__'__t fair! There were no other words for it, no matter how childish. This wasn__'__t fair!_

As D'artagnan grumbled into his drink, Porthos' eyes grew ever darker. He had developed an 'intimate' relationship with Emile upon their departing -that being one of hatred based on their 'mixed opinions' on slave labour.'

_This would not bode well. _Athos rested a cautious hand on Porthos' arm before he could say anything rude and gave a warning glance to Aramis who looked about ready to cuss the mans' existence on his brothers' behalf.

"We need to get him back…" Athos informed quietly, his soothing tones doing nothing to calm his friends reactions -Miriam included.

"Athos, what are you talking about!?" Miriam pleaded, gripping his arm at this latest confession. _Back from where? Why did they know about his whereabouts? What had he done!?_

"-Is my brother in trouble?!" she begged, forcing Athos' eyes back to her own and clenching her fists tighter around his arm. _Why wasn__'__t he giving her answers?_

Perhaps the most traumatized of the group, however, were the three remaining musketeers. They looked downright horrified. Aramis even stumbled back against the wall at the force of it.

"YOUR BROTHER!?" Porthos roared, trying to rise from his seat in both surprise and anger. _He needed to snap something, needed to do it now -and if Athos didn__'__t let go of him, his fingers would be the prize._

Aramis groaned aloud and dropped his mug to the floor, both hands going to cover his face as D'artagnan rolled his eyes skywards to resemble something of a prayer -not a common sight for their youngest member.

But then again, no one had been very fond of Emile Bonnaire. Prayers were ideal.

Athos just leaned back tiredly in his chair; eyes searching Miriams' for calming answers as he held back a cringe -for her sake.

Ignoring Porthos' loud reaction, Athos turned his attention to her questions of trouble "Possibly…" he informed, tentatively, "…you see, we met your brother-"

"Emile" Miriam filled in. Athos nodded.

"Correct" Aramis voiced aloud; reluctantly dragging himself into the conversation to help Athos out of this mess while Porthos continued to splutter angrily and bend the available forks at his disposal.

"What has he done now!?" Miriam questioned, tone strained as she looked between the two.

_Her family has suffered a major blow recently and her brothers had left long before that. She didn__'__t want any more of them in danger -not if she could help it._

"Er, well, its rather what _we _did" Aramis interjected, rubbing at the stubble of his beard as he dealt with a new burdened guilt he thought he'd never feel.

Propping his elbows on the table and resting his head between his hands -just over his ears- Athos tried to drown out what was to come next.

This particular pose inadvertently mirrored his 'star pupil' across the table who had a hand clapped across his mouth at her confession about such ghastly relations.

_Now all they needed, was for Aramis to put his hands back to his eyes and they__'__d have the full picture _Athos mused.

"-How could he even be related to you!?" Porthos butted in; his outburst leading Miriam to offer an amused look before settling to try to give the man a suitable answer anyway.

"Well, my father and mother got married…and when a man and woman love each other very much-" Miriam began sarcastically.

"-Ah! I can see it now!" D'artagnan cut in grimly; taking notice of the witty sarcasm and pegging it as a family trait.

_This was just great! _-and D'artagnan thought Aramis was the one with women troubles. _But noooo, let__'__s not forget about Athos! He was seemingly just as likely to get caught up in this mess…he__'__d just been hiding it in his past, apparently._

D'artagnan supposed he was being a bit of a hypocrite about all of this, what with Constance and all, but those were details he could overlook for now.

Aramis nodded at D'artagnans' sentiment, smiling lightly.

"What?" Miriam questioned; large innocent eyes taking after her elder brother, precisely.

"Emile is the oldest of seven where as I am the youngest, so although we are related I'm not all that like him -as he was never around much…always gallivanting off with the French legion and all" Miriam informed -the honest expression on her face telling them she was none the wiser.

"-I believe the last time he wrote, he spoke of acquiring great wealth and status…though of course what that means exactly, is up for debate. He was always quite troublesome you see, never could stop telling tall tales" she confessed with a rueful shake of her head.

"Quite" Athos echoed; his pinched face telling Miriam that perhaps Emile hadn't been as honest as she'd thought in his letters home.

There was another brief moment of silence as the brothers contemplated what course of action should be best.

They couldn't just leave Emile open to criminals and authority alike; he was a wanted man -by both friend and foe- and so now, he was wanted by the four musketeers…as a begrudging 'family member.'

_If Athos was going to continue on with Miriam -as it seemed blatantly obvious- then eventually they would need a family member to give her away, as was only proper. _

_If this happened to be Emile, then so be it. It was the least they could do for poor Miriams__'__ mind. _Aramis sighed.

As the brothers pondered the ups and downs of the decision, Miriam watched them all curiously -a hand fiddling with the scratches of her glass as she waited for an answer.

"Well, I suppose we'd best go get him back then" D'artagnan concluded glumly, sighing as he knocked back a drink and then reached to make a second from an idle bottle of wine.

_Athos would pay for it, he would owe him one after this new adventure. Owe him many._

"I suppose" Athos relented -'the man of few words' taking up the extent of his personality as the thought of leaving Miriam behind during the search crossed his mind.

_No, she would have to come with them__…__But Constance could watch over her__…__Then again, Constance had her own problems, she couldn__'__t baby-sit._

Athos was torn.

Aramis placed a sturdy hand on Porthos' shoulder as the man continued to sulk -his involvement in this matter going without saying.

_Porthos would have to help them retrieve Bonnaire. Oh what a joyous ride home that would make! -All those lovely chats about slave cargo, Spanish prisons and general moral grounds. Just wonderful!_

Aramis shook his head tiredly and took chugged the last of the wine in his glass -hoping to dull his senses for the rest of the night. _Sobriety be damned, he would drink Athos under the table tonight -or he could try._

"But didn't the ship go missing?" D'artagnan piped up, his fast paced question leaving no room for Miriam to get an alarmed word in side ways before Athos purposely cut her off.

"We can check logue books…his dismissal will have been noted somewhere" Athos informed the group wisely, earning two nods and a grunt.

"_Fine_" Porthos relented moodily; shrugging Aramis hand off his shoulder so he could sit up straighter and turn a deadly serious look over to Miriam.

"-But when we get back, you need to get some _big _lessons through that thick skull of his -or I might just have to do it myself" Porthos promised with barely contained anger.

Miriam gulped once and simply nodded her acknowledgement, unsure of how to respond on her brothers behalf -considering she didn't know what he'd done.

Taking pity on her awkward position, Athos looped his arm back around her shoulder and addressed the table.

"Well, despite these slight -altercations- to our leave, I believe tonight is owed another bout of celebrations" Athos suggested; tired enough to do or try anything to get everyone's minds out of the dark corners that were now full of Emiles' infuriatingly smug, golden toothed smile.

"I second that notion" Aramis followed quickly, looking to his brothers and Miriam, "Who's with me?" he added with a cheerful smile.

Miriams' face began to light up once more, burying her questions down with the promise that they would collect her brother. Her warm smile grew even more so when Athos pressed his lips to her temple and gave her a small kiss.

"Gah, get a room you two!" D'artagnan complained, rising from his seat to follow Aramis to the bar -unable to shake off the image of Emile sat in Miriams' chair; even if she was a completely different person.

Porthos just gritted his teeth with a tight smile and followed his brothers back for drinks, leaving the couple alone with mischievous smiles and twinkling eyes.

"_Should _we get a room?" Miriam questioned honestly, looking deep into Athos' eyes as she relaxed back into his warm embrace and set her sights on fiddling with his beard idly.

"No, I promised to bring you back home -at some point. And I'm a man of my word" Athos stated sincerely, stroking her hair as she tucked her head under his chin.

"I know" Miriam murmured fondly, now playing with his lapels. _She could never get enough of the leather scent and feel. It was heaven._

"Miriam?" Athos interrupted, mumbling into her hair as he looked down to her and propped his feet into a third chair.

"Mmm?" Miriam replied by way of answer, a yawn escaping her lips as the night life began to crawl in from outside and the sun set against the horizon.

"Please stop doing that, you're driving me crazy" Athos admitted, trying to still her twirling fingers at his chest -her upper frame now blocking the way for his arms to remove her hands as she sat in his lap.

He could vaguely remember seeing her slide sneakily from her chair to his -but he hadn't thought to stop her, until it was too late. _Now he was at her mercy._

_God help him._

"I thought you would like a little crazy?" Miriam teased, swirling her fingers all the more and taking pride in hearing the beat of his heart speed up against her ear, now resting on his chest.

"Animal" Athos teased, throwing her mind off course.

"Fawning, dizzy-eyed, fustilarian" Miriam countered.

Raising his head to look back down into her eyes, Athos gave her a questioning look.

"What? Just because you had a proper background in such political terms, doesn't mean I haven't heard my fair share of insults" Miriam explained, "-I have brothers you know."

Athos rolled his eyes, "Don't remind me" he muttered, shoving her head back under his own, "-You'll ruin the moment."

"What moment?" Miriam jested, determined for some light hearted banter and purposely ignoring his exhausted manner.

"Miriam, _please_, just be quiet for now" he replied; hands finally catching hold of a set of fingers and yanking them away.

"Ow! Careful!" Miriam scolded, batting at his chest.

"If you keep hitting me like that, I can file for abuse" Athos retorted, smiling slightly as a yawn erupted from his lips.

They had barely done anything all day and yet he was all tuckered out. _He was going to blame her for that. She__'__d driven his mind in enough loops to lap France._

"You wouldn't -I know where the rest of your wine stash is, and I'm not afraid to take advantage of it" Miriam taunted.

"No you don't…you're lying" Athos mused -after a moments consideration. _There was no way she could have possibly found it__…__.right?_

"Athos, have I ever lied to you?" Miriam reasoned, snuggling innocently into his chest.

Blinking in thought as he looked back over to his brothers, Athos weighed whether or not she was lying or telling the truth. _It was rather hard to do with a semi addled mind._

"No…" came the slow reply, tone hinting of his unsure thoughts on the matter.

"Well, I suggest you be on your best behaviour then!" Miriam finished with a mischievous giggle -one that was received by D'artagnan as he approached with many more beverages and brothers in tow.

"What's this? _Athos_, have you gotten her drunk already?" Aramis berated, smiling at the giggling woman in his arms.

He was only teasing of course, but the lighter conversation was welcome after the numerous darker discussions they seemed to be having this day.

Athos merely smiled and accepted a new mug from Porthos' -who thankfully seemed to have calmed down a bit for the meantime.

"Hardly! I simply told her she was an animal and she began cackling like the crow she is" Athos informed them.

"I thought I was a horse?" Miriam questioned, smiling up at Athos as he returned her banter, "No, my dear, you forget yourself" he chuckled lightly.

"Am I missin' something?" Porthos grumbled in confusion, staring at the two strangely smiling partners.

"Yeah, a brain" D'artagnan broke in; receiving a laugh from Aramis and Miriam while Athos took a second sip of his wine.

"You're gonna be missin' some teeth if you keep up this attitude of yours" Porthos growled, swatting D'artagnan on the head. "-Thought you was gonna teach the whelp a lesson?" he added, turning back to Athos.

"Too much work" Athos responded, amusement in his eyes over D'artagnans' sudden frown.

"Ah" Porthos relented with a teasing smile before he took a big swig of liquor and clapped his hands together in the usual habit, then looked over to Aramis.

"Suppose I go fetch a melon? You up for it?" Porthos proposed.

"Suppose I offer the task over to our youngest recruit" Aramis replied.

"Hey, im not a recruit!" D'artagnan squeaked up, "I've been here for months!" he reasoned.

"A few months too many" Porthos quipped, his witty remark earning chuckles all around -bar the youngest.

"It's just a joke" Aramis added, clapping the lad comfortingly on the shoulder and getting back to his feet, "-come on, I'll show you how it's done" he encouraged -dragging Porthos to his feet also.

"Show him how what's done?" Miriam inquired quietly to Athos, completely nonplussed about the whole ordeal.

"Do you like melons?" Athos asked vaguely, raising an eyebrows.

"Sure, they're tasty I guess" she replied hesitantly, not knowing where this strange conversation was going.

"No, they're just fun to play with -not to eat" Athos explained matter-of-factly, raising from the table and bringing her to her feet.

"Oh- uhm, okay?…Well, it doesn't matter, it looks like I'm coming now anyway" Miriam noted, leaning towards Athos as the two sauntered after the three troublesome brothers, in search of a pistol and a melon.

"Prepare to witness you're beloved vegetable become annihilated" Athos teased, as he drew them both to a stop at a safe distance from the developing scene.

"Athos, it's a fruit" Miriam corrected. "Really?" he questioned curiously. "Yep" she replied simply.

"Hmph" he offered a shrug, "-good to know" he added, watching Aramis get into place avidly entertained.

"I feel like you're mocking me" Miriam chided, now watching the unfolding spectacle too with interest.

"Me? Never!" Athos replied, tightening his hold about her waist so she could lean into his frame.

All eyes drew to Porthos as the large man loaded his pistol and Aramis took his place against a beam -the atmosphere becoming taught with the gravity of such a daring situation; the drunken jeers and hollers slowly dying down to a silence.

Despite the peoples' questioning stares, Athos was confident all would be well. He doubted it could get much worse anyway.

Waiting patiently as Aramis did his usual, 'shaking out the limbs' practise, Porthos took a moment to cock and check his pistol -only aiming it when his brother had stopped shuffling around.

Taking a hasty side glance, D'artagnan chanced a look over to Miriams' intense expression, a smile taking to his lips as he witnessed her put a shocked hand to her mouth. _She'd get used to it._

"3...2...1 Fire!" the crowd chanted down, Porthos' obeying at their command.

But the melon didn't explode…instead, the lead ball went wild. This was probably because the second Porthos' had pulled the trigger, the tavern door had suddenly crashed open with a loud bang and sent the alarmed musketeers shot up into the ceiling with a jerk of his hand.

Aramis didn't bother to pay attention to what happened next as chose to slide down the beam to the floor, his pale face suggesting he'd had quite the scare of his life. As it turned out, the remaining brothers were in for another shock.

"Drinks on the house!" came a lofty, cheerful voice -a short, stylishly dressed man with a finely trimmed moustache and beard being the bearer of such fortune.

As the patrons roared an encore of happy cheers, Miriam screeched in delight and raced over to the man -abandoning Athos as her mind went into overdrive.

As Miriam departed, Athos let out a despairing groan in time with D'artagnans' -their already seized hearts now failing them with this new surprise.

A low, familiar growl from offside was what brought Athos back to his senses and he immediately moved to step between Porthos and Emile Bonnaire.

_Great! A family reunion! _

You'd think that would take a load off his mind!

_Like hell it would._

As Athos sauntered over to their newest, generous guest he took in the delight on Miriams' face; her glowing eyes and beaming smile easing back some of the pain in his heart.

_Well, perhaps this little meet and greet wouldn't kill him…Everything had all had returned to normal -relatively speaking- and everyone he cared about was alive and safe _Athos mused gratefully. _He couldn't ask for much more than that._

Athos drew an arm between Porthos as he stepped through the crowd, intent on joining Emile and Miriam before anyone pummelled him into the floor.

_If anyone deserved that 'job,' it would be him _Athos thought happily; clenching and unclenching his fists as he neared the mischievously grinning dwarf.

_They might become brothers in law, eventually, but that would never erase the temptation to become physical. After all, that__'__s what family did -keep in touch…and pummel each other, _lovingly_._

Athos grinned as Emiles' eyes caught his and widened in fear, his embrace with his sister Miriam rooting him to the spot even as the brothers closed in.

_This was going to be a fun night after all _Athos mused -_and he was sure his brothers would feel the same._

**Well, it's finally over! :D / :'( I feel both happy and sad about it, but mostly feeling accomplished -and super grateful towards all you readers/reviewers/followers/fave-rs out there! I seriously couldn't/wouldn't have accomplished such a feat without you! I reeeeeally hope you enjoyed the story -and liked the ending! It was long, happy, sad, bumpy and painful -but we made it! Hip Hip Hurr- ouch my back! ;)**

**-I have a lot of Musketeer fics lined up from here on out, but only time will tell when I will post -hopefully not too soon from now! So I hope to see you again at some point! :D**

**Big THANKS once again to everyone! I can't convey enough feelings, but I LOVE you all to bits! So, er..until next time my pretties! All for one (im greedy) );D…..okay, fine, and one for all! *High Fives!* Smell ya later!**


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